


Derailed

by Catspook



Series: The Lynchpin Universe [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Belle and Bae are supportive, Multi, People actually talk to each other, Rumple has a difficult recovery ahead, This changes a lot of things, but not everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-11-12 17:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 43
Words: 141,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11166348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catspook/pseuds/Catspook
Summary: AU - The gods have a plan, the Sorcerer has an agenda, and Rumplestiltskin is not playing his part. All he wants is time alone with his family to recover, but can he while under constant attack from enemies without and within?  - Ch. 43: Everyone works together to save Rumple as the Sorcerer's plan is finally revealed.





	1. Pinocchio and the Evil Queen Walk Into a Bar

“You’ve thought way too much about this,” Regina said.

“No, no, no,” August replied, fairly certain that he wasn’t slurring yet. “Henry and I figured it all out. He loves Harry Potter.”

“I know that. I _am_ his mother.”

“So you should have thought about this too. Everybody who knows Harry Potter sorts people in their head. Admit it! David, Mary Margaret, Emma, and Henry are all Gryffindors…”

“Naturally,” she said flatly.

“Papa and Jiminy are Hufflepuffs, plus Nova and all the dwarves. Although you could make the Gryffindor argument for Nova and Leroy, but you know they wouldn’t want to be in a different house than Leroy’s brothers…”

“Of course.”

“Bae’s a Gryffindor. Belle’s a Ravenclaw.”

“Not a Gryffindor?”

“No! I refuse to be the only Ravenclaw! And there are too many Gryffindors in this town. We’re all storybook characters - most of us - there should be more than two Ravenclaws!”

“How are you a Ravenclaw? I did a background check on you; you didn’t graduate high school.”

“How am I not a Ravenclaw? I’m a writer! I work in a library! And I’m the guy that wakes people up the truth; I’m a Lovegood! Besides, I’m clearly not any of the others.”

“Well, not Gryffindor, certainly.”

“Obviously. And I’m too lazy for Hufflepuff, and I think I might actually be allergic to ambition, so Slytherin is out.”

Regina snorted. “That I could believe.” Then she morosely added, “I’m a Slytherin.”

“Are you sure? I’d have pegged you Gryffindor.”

“Don’t try to flatter me.”

“I’m not. I read the Book, remember? You never wanted the crown or any of that shit; that was your mom. Now _she_ was a Slytherin.”

“The villains are all in Slytherin.”

“Not actually true; you’re forgetting Pettigrew. Plus some of the Hufflepuffs were total assholes to Harry.”

Regina stared at her whiskey. “Robin is a Gryffindor.”

“Ruby and Granny too. Like I said, too many Gryffindors. Maybe you should be in Slytherin; we could use one.”

“What about Rumple? I thought he was your Slytherin.”

“What? Gold’s not Slytherin.”

“You can’t claim him for Ravenclaw just to shore up your numbers; that’s cheating. Besides, why would you want him?”

“He’s not Ravenclaw either.”

“Then what the hell is he? He’s a self-described coward; he’s as far from Gryffindor and you can get.”

“He’s the rarest of the rare: a Hufflepuff Dark Lord.”

Regina actually laughed for the first time that night. “What?”

“I mean it; Henry and I figured this out. Think about it. He’s not Gryffindor, like you said. He’s not Ravenclaw either; he uses books, but they’re just tools to him, like anything else.”

“That still leaves Slytherin.”

“Ah, but Slytherin and Hufflepuff both have two traits: cunning and ambition, and loyalty and hard work. He’s cunning…”

“I’ll say.”

“But the guy is seriously the least ambitious super villain ever. Think about it; all that power, and he never tried to rule anyone. He collects doomsday devices and doesn’t use them…”

“He just tricks other people into using them,” she said darkly.

“Right, but why did he do that? To find his kid. See, people think that loyalty is always a good thing. They think Hufflepuffs are all like Jiminy, but suppose you were so loyal to one or two people that you didn’t even see other people as human…”

“My God, you’re right,” Regina said, laying her glass on the table. “And Gold is the biggest workaholic I have ever met.”

“Exactly! Even under the curse he had, what, three jobs? Laywer, landlord, and the pawn shop. And he fixes things; that’s four. And when he’s the Dark One, it’s all magic all the time, but all he does with it is collect shit. And what does he do with his free time? He makes gold he doesn’t need in the most unnecessarily labor-intensive way possible! He’s a Hufflepuff Dark Lord!”

She looked at August and started snickering. Considering that she was four drinks in, and they’d been here less than an hour, he thought she was handling her booze quite well. Maybe not the break up so much, however. She went from snickering to angry in an instant, throwing back the rest of her glass and ordering a new one. The bartender made eye contact with August as if to ask if he would be able to get her home all right. He nodded. 

“He made me what I am, you know,” she said. “He doesn’t deserve a True Love.”

August was of the opinion that no one ever really got what they deserved in life, but he doubted that Regina was in the mood to hear his particular brand of cheerful nihilism just now. “I read the Book. And I don’t think he’d disagree with you.” It was true: Gold had self-esteem issues. Gold had a lot of issues, actually. _Don’t we all?_

Regina slammed her glass onto the bar. “Why did she have to interfere? Why couldn’t she just leave that woman in the past! She jeopardized the entire timeline!”

There were a lot of ways to answer that question, but Regina clearly wasn’t asking for one. He passed her the bowl of pretzels and let her rant.

XxXxXxX

They’d named the baby Graham. Emma had thought that maybe it was a good thing that Regina hadn’t been there, after they had announced that. _She killed a lot of people. Can you ever really come back from that?_

But, of course, Henry felt her absence. “Do you think she’ll be all right?” he asked.

“She’s with August, kid; he’ll make sure she gets home safe.” 

“You’re not going to try to take me back to New York, are you?”

“No, Henry. This is home, for better or worse. We’ve got family here.”

That made him smile. “I knew you’d change your mind. You’re the Savior. So what happened in the past?”

“Yes, Emma, I’d like to hear it,” Mary Margaret agreed. She’d known something had changed when Emma had come back from Ingrid’s place (they’d found no clues on where she’d gone, unfortunately) and hugged her. Emma wasn’t a big hugger.

“Didn’t Hook fill you in?” Emma asked with a sly smile.

Currently, the pirate was dodging Granny’s side-eye, and awkwardly trying to insert himself into the party. He wasn’t having much luck, but she had to give him points for trying.

“I’d rather hear it from you,” Mary Margaret said with an identical smile. “He said that you were Princess Leia and Prince Charles. Is that true?”

It occurred to Emma that even if everything had worked out the same in the end, they had changed her parents’ story. “Yeah. Henry, do you have the Book on you? I want to take a look at it.”

“Sure!”

There they were, in living color, but interestingly enough none of their interactions with Gold had made it in. _Of course not - that would have tipped off Regina when she read the Book. This was planned; whatever god is responsible for Nate wanted their story to change. Why?_

Emma plastered on a smile and told the story with as much humor as she could manage.

_I need to talk to Gold._

XxXxXxX

“Does your father know that you write pornography?” Regina asked the puppet.

He put his drink down. “The question is… how you know that? You’re not one of my readers, are you?”

“Background check.”

“And you didn’t tell Emma? I thought you were trying to drive me out of town.”

“By the time I got that bit of information, she was convinced I was a liar. I doubt she would have believed me.”

“Tell me about it,” he said dryly, and she snickered into her whiskey.

“But that’s not the point. Does your father know?”

“I believe he has decided to be willfully ignorant of it. I would appreciate it if you didn’t burst his bubble.”

“You don’t want him to be ashamed.” She was definitely drunk. It was the only explanation for the thoughts in her head and the words coming out of her mouth.

“I don’t want him to think about me having sex, and I believe that he feels the same way.”

Regina looked at her drink. “Was he ever ashamed? You were a thief and a liar. Everything he didn’t want you to be.”

The puppet sighed. “I thought he would be, but he wasn’t. He blamed himself. And Blue, of course, but never me.”

“Right, the fairy.”

“Personally, I blame her for _all_ of this.”

“All of it?”

“Yup.”

“Just her?”

“Umhm.”

“Why only her?”

“Because I’m lazy and can only carry one grudge at a time. I have learned this about myself.”

“Huh.”

XxXxXxX

“There’s a story here,” Belle said as Rumple and Bae exchanged a knowing smile over the nighttime breakfast that Rumple had made.

“This is what Papa made the first night he found me during the curse,” Bae said, cutting into his omelet.

“Because there was no food in the house,” Rumple added. His own plate was empty except for a single slice of toast. Belle restrained herself from commenting on it. She now knew that her worst fears about his time as Zelena’s prisoner were true. She couldn’t blame him for feeling too sick to eat. She felt ill herself.

“But you managed. You always do,” she said. 

Rumple didn’t meet her eyes, instead reaching for the jar of Nutella. He very precisely spread a thin layer of it evenly over the entire surface of his toast. His hands were still shaking.

_We’ll get through this. Zelena is dead; she can’t hurt us anymore._

Belle forced herself to sample some of everything simply because Rumple had made it. She could tell he was forcing himself as well. When he put the rest of his toast aside, clearly unable to go on, she put her hand on his arm and smiled encouragingly. 

He placed his other hand over hers and squeezed back, unable to smile.

When the meal was done (only Bae had cleaned his plate), it was time to get back to the matter at hand. None of them wanted to start. Rumple finally did. “I saw the portal open and close again, but it seems little has changed.”

“It was Emma and Hook,” Bae said. Belle and Rumple looked at him. “Tink was already at Granny’s when I called her; Mary Margaret told her. They got sucked in and then came out again.”

Rumple sighed in relief. “Not Malcolm or Ingrid, then,” Belle said. “That’s good.”

“Although I worry what the pirate got up to.”

“I’m sure Emma didn’t let him do anything too bad.” 

Rumple nodded absently. “I should speak to her tomorrow.”

Good. That was good. Rumple being willing to work with their friends was exactly what they needed right now.

XxXxXxX

“What is Dante’s punishment for wrath?” Regina asked, apropos of nothing. She was pretty wasted by this point and had gone mostly quiet.

“Why are you asking?”

“You’re a writer, aren’t you? I thought you would know.”

“‘K. Hold on.” He took out his phone and Googled it. “It’s… searching… searching. Woah, this can’t be right.”

“What does it say?”

“Basically, mud wrestling.”

“What?”

“I’m serious. ‘the actively wrathful fight each other viciously on the surface of the slime*’. Huh. What’s lust? Uh… ‘These souls are buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. This symbolizes the power of lust to blow one about needlessly and aimlessly*’ Holy crap, that is my life.”

“What circle is that?”

“Second.”

“And what’s wrath?”

“Fifth.”

“Oh. What’s the worst?”

August didn’t have to look that up. “Betrayers.”

“Oh,” she said flatly and turned back to her liquor. Regina had killed both her father and her spouse, which placed her firmly in that category, but August was a betrayer too, as was his own father. Was that why he cared about making Regina feel better? Because he needed to believe in redemption?

“I really wouldn’t worry about it. Of the gods that have been fucking with us, there’s no evidence that the Christian God is involved, and the Inferno is just fanfiction anyway. And Dante wasn’t an Author, as far as I know. And it’s not like the other Authors were all that accurate in their Earth writings. Hans Christian Anderson got a _lot_ of stuff wrong. More than Walt, who wasn’t all that accurate, either.”

“The Authors…”

“You know, the ones that write the Books. You’re caught up in that, right?”

“Right. Henry mentioned that.”

“Right. Anyway, there’s more to you than wrath. Just like there’s more to me than lust.”

“Is there?” she asked skeptically.

“Absolutely. Sloth and gluttony, for example.”

“Gluttony?” She eyed him.

“Booze counts.” He chugged the rest of his beer and smacked his lips. “Ah, sin.”

She sniggered, taking a sip of her own drink. “But you’re not wrath. I’m wrath.”

“If you want to be.”

“I _don’t. _I mean, I do, but I never works out for me. Of course, being good hardly worked out, either, did it?”__

__“I don’t know about that. I mean, you’re out of prison. That’s a plus, right? And there’s Henry. A year ago, you didn’t think you’d ever see him again.”_ _

__She side-eyed him. “Are you saying I’m greedy?”_ _

__He shrugged. “Aren’t we all?”_ _

__She huffed. “No one’s as greedy as Rumple, and he gets to keep his True Love,” she grumbled._ _

__“Watch out; that’s envy. Although I think Zelena cornered the market on that. Literally turning green? That’s hard to top.”_ _

__“I can’t believe my mother hid that from me,” Regina muttered._ _

__“You can’t? I can.”_ _

__“Don’t insult my mother. And I can, but I’m pissed. You should understand fig- figures of speech, Mr. Writer.”_ _

__“‘K. We’re missing some sins here. What about pride?”_ _

__“I have no pride; I’m here with you.”_ _

__“…Fair enough.”_ _

__XxXxXxX_ _

__“Last call.”_ _

__Regina had no idea how long they’d been in this disgusting bar drinking swill, but she did know that she was very, very drunk. And angry. And lonely. She stood up, wobbling in her heeled boots, and the puppet caught her by the arm. “Woah, there.”_ _

__“I am no… am not a horse,” she said peevishly._ _

__“Good. I’m no good with horses.”_ _

__He stood up and pulled out his wallet. “You are not paying for me,” she said. “I know what that means.”_ _

__“‘K. Can you separate the bill?” he asked the bartender._ _

__“For you two? Sure.”_ _

__“Who were you?” Regina asked the bartender. “I don’t know you.”_ _

__“I ran the pub that served your Black Guards, your Majesty,” he said._ _

__“You’re cheerful. Why are you cheerful?”_ _

__“Uh, I don’t know?”_ _

__“I’m cheerful too!” the puppet said._ _

__“You’re drunk. You’re not drunk, are you?” she asked the bartender. “That’s very unpr- un- irresponsible.”_ _

__“No, I’m not drunk. Cash or credit?”_ _

__“You’re not afraid of me.” He should be afraid of her. Everyone should be afraid of her. She looked at the puppet. “You’re not either. And you’re a coward. What the hell happened to me?”_ _

__“You’re a good guy now,” he said._ _

__“Right. It sucks.”_ _

__He sighed. “I know.”_ _

__Later, she would not remember him walking her home._ _

__XxXxXxX_ _

__So it seemed that the Savior had recovered her powers. Ingrid had smiled brilliantly when Emma had revealed that fact to her audience at the inn. Malcolm himself didn’t much consider that good news, but keeping his partner happy did seem like a good way to stay alive long enough to find a way to recover his powers. Or any powers. Rumple’s would do, if it came down to it._ _

__Over the course of the evening, Malcolm and Ingrid had watched with satisfaction as the cabal of heroes had fractured, their two greatest magic users withdrawing to lick their wounds. They were both fragile, which made their allegiances fragile. It was an opportunity._ _

__Slowly, the residents of Storybrooke returned to their homes, most blissfully unaware that a storm was coming. When the Evil Queen - the last of the ‘heroes’ to retire - was finally passed out in her bed, Malcolm looked at Ingrid. “I take you have a plan?”_ _

__She smiled. “Oh, yes. I only need one more piece for my mirror, and then we can begin. In the meantime…” She lifted her hand._ _

__“What are you casting?”_ _

__“Just some insurance. We can’t have Emma leaving town, now, can we?”_ _

__XxXxXxX_ _

__On the border of Storybrooke, the temperature suddenly dropped, frigid even for a November night in Maine. The ground started to shake, and a wall of ice emerged out of the ground, trapping everyone within._ _

__XxXxXxX_ _

__*Quotes from Wikipedia entry: Dante’s Inferno (June 10, 2017)_ _


	2. Set the Board

The dockworkers had noticed the wall of ice first; it spanned the entire width of the bay. They’d called Mary Margaret just after dawn, and a few scouting parties later, it was confirmed that, yes, it completely encircled Storybrooke. They were all, once again, trapped within the borders of the town.

“This is ridiculous,” Emma said.

“It was Ingrid,” Elsa said, “It has to be.”

“I don’t think you’ll lose money on that bet, sister,” Leroy said. “So now what?”

“Back to Ingrid’s. We go over it with a fine toothed comb; there must be some clue as to what she’s planning,” Emma said.

“How is a comb going to help?” Anna asked, “Are you going to use her hair for a spell?”

“That’s just an expression,” Emma said with a wry smile. “It means we look everywhere. In every drawer, under the carpets, everywhere.”

“Could I lend assistance?” It was Hook. Emma looked at him. He’d weathered her little set-up last night with an almost disappointing degree of aplomb. She had been kind of hoping he’d get frustrated and leave so she could write him off, but he’d stayed, even after David gave him the third degree.

And he knew Malcolm better than anyone but Gold (who was still incommunicado, according to Bae) and Bae himself (who had his hand full). “Maybe,” Emma said. “We’re on our way to Ingrid’s; walk with us and fill us in on anything you know about Malcolm. Bae thought he might be trying to get his powers back; that seem plausible to you?”

“Oh, certainly. ‘Tis a hard thing to rule like Pan did and be left with nothing; I don’t doubt he’ll resort to anything to get it back.”

“Bae said he did things with barriers; tricked people. Tell me about that.”

“Oh, aye. You could never trust a compass in Neverland. Or your own wits; it was Pan’s game, all of it. A great chessboard with living pieces.”

“Wonderful.”

“But he’s lost his power now, hasn’t he? He’s mortal again, as I understand.”

“Partnered up with a witch; that’s the problem.”

Hook sighed and nodded. “Aye.”

They found nothing at first, but trust the pirate to be the one to locate Ingrid’s stash. “Most people these days go for a wall safe,” Emma said, as Hook found a disguised latch that revealed a hidden compartment in Ingrid’s wooden bedframe.

“Ah, but the witch is not from your world, is she, Swan?” he asked cheekily. Then he frowned, reaching inside. “Blast.”

“Cleared out?”

“Aye.”

“So she’s a step ahead of us,” Elsa said ominously.

“Looks like it. So what do we know?” Emma groused.

“We know she had that picture of you,” Anna said, “And now we know why.”

“That’s right, the picture.” _Where did she get it?_ It was from before Emma’s arrest. “I should take another look at it; it may be our only clue at the moment. You guys keep going; I’ll be back.”

“I’ll go with you,” Hook volunteered. “If this witch wants you, it’s not wise for you to go anywhere alone.”

“And what are you going to do?” Leroy asked. “Ingrid’ll turn you into a pirate pop before you can say ‘ahoy’.”

“I’ll go,” Elsa said. “If we’re separated, she may try to divide us like she did to me and Anna.”

“Could be,” the Hook said thoughtfully. “It does seem that your alliances have already been divided. Could be why they chose to make their move.” He had a point; if Malcolm and Ingrid were watching them like Zelena had, they would have known that last night had been an ideal time to strike.

“Gold will come around,” Emma said. “He’s a business man.”

“But what about the Queen? Takes things a bit personally, that one.”

Emma had been trying not to think about that. “She’ll come around for Henry.” _I hope._

Hook nodded, thoughtful. “Could be. But how much time do we have? That’s the question.”

“We have time,” Anna said. “She can’t have completed her mirror, and we destroyed the best one for her to use.”

“Are you sure about that?” Hook asked. 

“You said it yourself,” Emma said, “If she had completed it, last night would have been the ideal time to strike.”

Hook nodded. “A fair point.”

“Keep looking,” Emma said. “Elsa and I will get that picture; maybe it can tell us something.”

XxXxXxX

Belle awoke the same way she had the day before, with Rumple wrapped tightly around her. “Good morning,” he greeted quietly as she began to stir. He released his grip and pulled back.

She turned over to look at him. “Did you sleep at all?”

“I don’t need to.” She flattened her lips to keep herself from saying something. He was being honest; she couldn’t ask more than that. 

He was watching her with worried eyes. She reached out and pushed his hair back behind his ear. He held very still while she did it. “How can I help you?” she asked.

“You are.”

“Tell me what more I can do.” She felt helpless; he was suffering, and she couldn’t do anything but let him hold her.

“Nothing. You’re everything I need; you and Bae.”

He got up, immediately pulling his robe over his pajamas and then walking over to the closet to select his suit for the day. He didn’t want her to see his body, and that broke her heart. She got up too, and she could not fail to notice how he angled himself as she walked over to him. He was tracking her, hyper-aware of where she was in the room. “Will you go to the library today?” he asked. “Your discussion with Mr. Booth got interrupted.”

“It’s fine; Nova can pass along what we talked about. I’ll stay with you and Bae today.”

“You’re certain?” More hesitance.

“Of-” She stopped and took a breath. “What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you please.” And she recognized this too. This was the spinner. The peasant that would not dare ask for anything for himself, and fell over himself trying to please others. _So they wouldn’t hurt him. So they would stay._ And it hadn’t even worked.

She reached out and gently gripped his arm. When he didn’t pull away, she wrapped her arms around him. “I want you,” she said. “That’s all I want.”

He hugged her back, clinging like he had for the past two nights, but he didn’t say a word.

XxXxXxX

Emma frowned at the photograph as she and Elsa walked back to Ingrid’s place. “I don’t know where this was taken,” she said.

“You don’t recognize it?” Elsa asked.

“No.”

“Well, it does look like a rather ordinary house.”

“Yeah. It must have been one of the group homes; those kind of bled together. But where would she get something like that? The system doesn’t like giving out photos of foster kids; it’s a liability thing.”

“Maybe she stole it?”

Emma grunted. “Could be, but how? It was out there, and she was here in Storybrooke.”

“Could she have left?”

“Nope. Rules of the curse: no one in or out but Regina. Even Gold was affected. The only person who even remembered who they were was… Mother Superior.” Emma looked at Elsa. “I think we should pay a visit to the convent.”

XxXxXxX

When they got the shop that morning, Papa stopped when he got to the door. “Stay here,” he told them. “I need to… clean up.”

“It’s fine, Papa,” Bae said. “I saw it last night, remember?”

He swallowed hard. “At least let me get the broken glass off of the floor. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

Belle took Bae’s arm and nodded. “We’ll wait here, Rumple.”

“Thank you.” He went inside, and soon they could hear the tinkling of glass as the display cases put themselves back together. When it stopped, Belle knocked on the door. It opened under her hand.

He hadn’t just fixed the display cases; he’d fixed everything. He met Bae’s eyes and looked away, as if he expected to be criticized for it. Bae didn’t say anything. “Are you going to call Emma?” he asked instead.

“I should,” he said absently. “But I did have another thought. The barrier Zelena placed around the farmhouse was Malcolm’s design. I wonder if Ingrid has erected something similar.”

“Do you think you can track it?” Belle asked.

“Perhaps. Malcolm’s barriers use misdirection, but not against all things.”

“That’s right,” Bae said, “The tracking spell was able to locate Johanna on the other side of it, but nothing else worked.”

“I need something magical enough be affected but weak enough not to override the spell’s effects. Perhaps a fairy dust mixture of some kind…”

“Let me help,” Belle said eagerly. “I’m sure we can figure out something.” Papa nodded, still deep in thought.

Bae’s phone buzzed. Papa looked up, startled. “I got a text,” Bae explained. He pulled out his phone. He looked at his father.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Emma. She… wants to know if you’re available to talk to her.”

Papa frowned. “Why would she be asking you?”

Bae sighed. “Because I told Mary Margaret to tell everyone not to bother you until they heard from me.”

Papa looked hurt. “Did you think I would hurt them? Bae, I swear-”

“No!” he objected. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t them I was worried about.”

Papa gaped at him. “Oh.”

Belle rubbed his arm. “Will you talk to her? I think we need to work together on this. Ingrid and Malcolm have allied; we need to do the same.”

Papa nodded. “Our interests do coincide. I will call her.” He pulled out his phone. “Miss Swan?... Yes, he did… yes, I am… I see. Yes, I think that would be wise… I may. I am at the shop now… Alone?... Oh, yes, I see…” Papa looked at them. “It can be arranged. Will you be inviting Mr. Booth as well?...” Papa frowned. “You’re certain? Very well, Miss Swan. Goodbye.” He hung up and clicked his phone shut.

“Miss Swan will be arriving soon. She has requested to discuss this we me alone.”

“Alone? Why?” Belle asked.

“She thinks there may be a connection to another matter she previously brought to my attention. It’s rather personal to her, and she requested confidentiality.” 

“Was this the thing she was asking about yesterday?” Bae asked. He hadn’t though much of it at the time, but after the events of last night, he was getting suspicious.

Papa nodded. “It is.”

“And August is involved?” That suggested it was something having to do with before the curse was broken. _What could it be?_

Papa nodded again, but Bae didn’t miss how his eyes narrowed the slighted bit. He knew Bae was suspicious. “Although she seems to think he will not be needed for this particular discussion,” he said. “She said he was indisposed but did not provide a reason. I’m inclined to think there is a bottle involved.”

Belle and Bae exchanged glances. “That doesn’t sound like August. Not now, anyway, not since he found his father. Did something happen last night?” Belle asked.

“I’m quite certain something did. But what, at this moment, I cannot say.”

Bae shifted uneasily. It wasn’t simply that every apparent victory always seemed followed by disaster, but the very idea that Emma and Papa were keeping secrets made him extremely uneasy. Papa keeping secrets was dangerous. The Savior keeping secrets was simply wrong.

Papa looked at him, almost pleading. _I don’t want to fight about this, not now._ Bae smiled at him to put his at ease. But it wasn’t over; they both knew that.

XxXxXxX

“Gold,” Miss Swan said without preamble as she entered to shop.

“Miss Swan.” Rumplestiltskin looked as Bae and Belle. “Would you be willing to grant us privacy for this conversation?” he asked them. Miss Swan was convinced that Henry’s parentage was somehow involved in this new development. Rumplestiltskin sincerely hoped not.

“Sure,” Belle answered reluctantly. She kissed him briefly and squeezed his shoulder. He would never understand how she could stand by him through everything. She deserved better than this madness. “We’ll be at the library,” she assured him.

“You’re sure?” Bae asked Emma. “We can help.”

Someone needed to tell Miss Swan that staring like a deer in headlights hardly allayed suspicions, especially when trying to keep a secret. “It’s a delicate matter, I’m afraid,” Rumplestiltskin said. The Savior nodded, eyes still wide.

“All right.” Bae hugged him as he walked past. Rumplestiltskin knew that Bae knew there was something wrong. He didn’t know how long he would be able to keep this from him. He didn’t even know if he should. _Liar. Monster. He always knew what you were._

Rumplestiltskin kissed his temple. “We won’t be long, Bae.”

Bae nodded. “Sure.”

Emma looked away nervously. Whatever she had discovered, it had spooked her badly. _Never a good sign._

_You will lose everything. It is inevitable._

The door closed behind them, the bell ringing far too cheerfully for the morning. “So what have you learned?” Rumplestiltskin asked.

She immediately launched into an explanation for her adventure in the past with the pirate, detailing her suspicions as she went. By the time she reached the end, he was inclined to agree that, “It was planned, Gold. Someone was interfering, making it so we couldn’t call you until after certain things happened. And then the Book left it all out; the fact that we were from the future, our deal with you, Marion, everything. I think whatever it is these gods are planning, we’re getting close to it. And then there’s this.” She placed a photograph of herself as a young girl on the counter in front of him. He had seen it before, on Ingrid’s nightstand. “I don’t remember this photo. I don’t remember this house. Where did Ingrid get this? She was cursed when this picture was taken. I took Elsa to see Mother Superior about it-”

“Why her?” he interrupted. It was never a good sign when Reul Ghorm was involved. _Blue bug. Crush her._

“Because she was the only one other than Regina who was awake under the curse. She said she didn’t know where Ingrid got it; she was lying. Somehow, I think Ingrid was awake too, and she’s been biding her time until both Elsa and I were here in Storybrooke. But how? Even you couldn’t get around it. It would take some serious magic to do that. Mother Superior said it wasn’t her, which was true. What’s left, except a god?”

“The Sorcerer,” Rumplestiltskin said immediately. He looked at the photo. Certain pieces were starting to fall into place.

_He’s a threat. Destroy him before he destroys us!_

“The Sorcerer… do you think that big, new mansion could be his?” she asked, coming to her own realizations. “Is he involved with this? Could he want Henry?”

“Mansion?” Rumplestiltskin asked sharply.

“Yeah. It didn’t come over with the first curse. Regina and Tink said it has serious magic, but we couldn’t find where it was coming from. Obviously, Mary Margret didn’t create it, so where did it come from?”

“We should investigate it; it could well be a message if some kind. I’ve suspected for some time that Ingrid made a deal with the Apprentice for the Hat she obtained from Anna. I didn’t know what he could have offered her that was more precious than what I was offering-”

“Right. The urn with Elsa in it,” she said flatly. _She doesn’t trust you. You can’t trust her._

“I’ve never denied what I am, Miss Swan, or what I’ve done. All this time, I had assumed that Ingrid was taken by the curse the same as the rest of us, but what if she was not? I didn’t notice at the time, but her aging is out of sync with the rest of the town. I think he sent her here, to Earth, separately, to find her second sister. You.”

Emma shook her head. “I never met her.”

“You said you didn’t remember this photograph being taken or the home it was taken it. Ingrid can take memories.”

“But would her powers have worked out there? That’s beyond the town line, and even Storybrooke didn’t have magic then.”

“Remember Mr. Booth’s encounter with the Dragon. From what he described to me, I believe the Dragon was able to harness magic in objects and use it to practice alchemy. And Regina brought with her enough magic to power Jefferson’s hat for a short time.”

Emma gestured to the shop. “But what about all your stuff? Why didn’t your stuff work until Regina brought the magic back?”

“It did. The potion that brought the magic back was mine, and it worked exactly as I intended it to. Deep magic, True Love magic, carried over. Certain objects… I don’t know the rhyme or reason behind which ones worked and which did not, but Ingrid’s memory spells don’t come from her own ice powers, but enchanted stones she carries with her. She could have taken your memories.”

“How we I know for sure? I didn’t actually go out of my way to remember my life in foster care, you know.”

“If you will permit me, I can examine your mind for gaps.”

She pinched her nose and sighed. “Fine. Do it.”

One dream catcher later, they determined that she was missing approximately six months; the six months leading up to her decision to run away for the final time. “How could I have not realized I didn’t remember that?” she asked. “Is Ingrid really that good?”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin said, staring at the dream catcher. “But the Sorcerer is. And his magic does reach Earth. I think you are right, Miss Swan, this was planned, carefully and in precise detail. Somehow, it benefits the Sorcerer to set Ingrid upon you.”

“Could this be about getting me out of the way? So he could use Henry for… whatever?”

“I don’t think so. If he only wanted to dispose of you, he could have done it much more easily than this. No, I think he in engineering a confrontation, as I engineered the battle between you and Regina. Whatever outcome he desires, it is not so simple as Ingrid destroying you.”

“And what is Malcolm’s role in this?” _He’s going to kill you. Kill him first! He deserves it!_

“I don’t know. I can tell you what he likely desires: to regain his power. How that fits into the Sorcerer’s plans I could not say.”

“That was Bae’s thought too. Could he use Henry for that?”

“Without the conduit of the Shadow? No. Neverland is lost to him. I suspect it is not Henry he is interested in at all at this point. Most likely, he is after the dagger.”

“Then he could control you.”

The thought of Malcolm with the dagger was somehow worse than Zelena. But Rumplestiltskin did not imagine his father’s goals were the same as hers. “Oh no. So he could slay me with it.” _Kill him before he kills you!_

“And become the new Dark One.” She said somberly.

“It’s as close as he could come to replicating the power he has lost.”

“So Malcolm wants power, probably through you. Ingrid wants me and Elsa. The Sorcerer wants… something. And then there are the gods.” She sighed.

“That’s about it,” he said.

“Great.”

They stood there a moment, contemplating the futility of the their situation. _You’re going to fail. You always do. Worthless. Nothing._ “So what happened to the puppet?” Rumplestiltskin asked, simply to divert the conversation. “Why didn’t you want him here?”

“I didn’t want him here because I know what he would say. He’d say we have to come clean about Nate and everything that’s going on. And he’s probably right,” she muttered. “And nothing happened to him; he’s keeping an eye on Regina.” 

Rumplestiltskin arched an eyebrow. “I wish him luck with that.”

“Wish him luck with the hangover he’s probably got.” She slapped her palm on the counter impatiently. “So what now? And what do we tell the others?”

“I think I need to see this mansion; if the Sorcerer is here, he is the key. As for what to tell the others… as much as we can, ideally.”

“I don’t want Henry to know; he has enough to deal with. And I know you don’t want Bae to know either. Some god stealing his essence to create a baby? You know he shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I do.” Although he knew that Bae would want to know if given the choice. He always a wanted to know. _He’ll find out. He’ll hate you. You’ll lose him again._ “They at least must know about the Sorcerer’s involvement.”

“Could he have sent Nate?”

“It’s a possibility, although such an advanced golem is beyond even his powers, as I understand them. And recall that Reul Ghorm has confirmed that the gods are involved.”

“Well, that’s what we do then, we make it about the Sorcerer and his plan with Ingrid, and Nate doesn’t even have to come into it.”

Rumplestiltskin doubted that it would be as simple as that, but he nodded nonetheless. “Agreed.”


	3. How the Story Goes

“Wake up!”

August groaned, nearly rolling off the pristine white sofa and onto the floor. His head pounded in that old, familiar way, although it had been a couple of years since waking up like this had been par for the course. “Regina?”

“Of course Regina! You’re in my house! And I want you out! Wake up and go home!”

He cracked an eye open, which would have been a lot more comfortable if Regina didn’t insist on decorating everything in black, red, and stark white. “And a good morning to you. You could say ‘thank you’, you know.”

“I didn’t ask for your pity, and I don’t want it. Whatever you were expecting to happen last night didn’t, so go home.”

“You still think I was trying to get in your pants? Usually when guys are doing that, they don’t sleep on the couch.”

“And why are you on the couch, anyway? I have guest rooms, you know.”

“Oh. That hadn’t occurred to me. Most of the places I end up crashing at don’t.”

She had her hands braced on her hips, and the stress lines on her face told him that her head was pounding worse than his. She was pissed off and in pain and didn’t know how to deal with a straightforward attempt to be sympathetic. That was OK; he wasn’t great at straightforward, anyway. “Go home,” she repeated.

He looked at the large clock on the wall. “My shift at the library isn’t for a couple of hours; I have time.”

“Are you dense? I’m telling you to leave!”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be alone!”

“Why?”

“Because my True Love’s wife came back from the dead, you ridiculous puppet! My life is ruined! Again!”

August finally sat up, bracing himself against the back of the couch. It was incredibly plush. He blinked at it. “You know, this is probably the nicest couch I have ever slept on.”

She rolled her eyes, immediately cradling her head in pain. “Marvelous. I’m happy for you. Now get out my house before I call the police!”

“I thought you weren’t talking to the police.”

“GET OUT!” He groaned as the noise of her shout make his head throb, but she caught it worse, grabbing the back of the sofa to keep from keeling over.

“Oh, God.”

“Do you have tomato juice and vodka?” he asked.

“More alcohol? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Haven’t you ever had a hangover before? A Bloody Mary is the best thing for it. Do you have it?”

“No. I have a child, you degenerate.”

“Well there you go.”

She glared at him. “Henry is the cure for my hangover?”

“You have a child. You have _Henry._ You’re life isn’t ruined, recent setbacks notwithstanding.”

“I don’t recall a lot about last night, but I do recall you telling me that you don’t fall in love. You don’t understand and you never will. I’m not your friend. Your friend, in fact, is the one who ruined everything for me. _Again._ I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t want you trying to do… whatever this was. Go home. Go back to the heroes. Tell them they’re on their own; I’m done.”

“What should I tell Henry?”

For the first time since he had approached her last night, her glare had true bite. He tensed, ready to run if he had to. “Tell him nothing. In fact, don’t go near him as long as you smell like the floor of a bar.”

Well, that was hardly a threat worthy of the Evil Queen. He relaxed. “OK.”

“OK?”

“OK. It’s not an unreasonable request; I’m not a good role model at the best of times. I’m at peace with that.”

“Do you take nothing seriously?”

“I am taking this seriously.” He just didn’t have to be up on a cross to do it. “You know where we are if you want to talk.” She just grunted.

His jacket was on the floor, and he retrieved it carefully before turning to go. Before he reached the door, he looked back. Her hands were still braced against the back of the couch, her head tilted down. “Seriously, try that Bloody Mary.”

She turned to glare at him. He smiled and left. That glare and been pure Regina, no trace of the Evil Queen. Whatever happened next, they’d be all right. He had faith.

XxXxXxX

“So what are we looking for?” the grumpy dwarf asked. Rumplestiltskin didn’t mind the crowd; the mansion was large, and they would need the extra hands. He’d minded the pirate, but fortunately he still had a restraining order and had sent him packing. However, he still found it troubling that Miss Swan was enchanted enough by their adventure together to invite Jones into the situation with Ingrid; he would have to keep an eye on that.

But that was a matter for another time. “I’m not precisely sure,” he answered the dwarf. “If this house does belong to the Sorcerer, it’s clearly a message. He wants us to know that he is here. The question is: why? And what else is he attempting too tell us?”

Apparently, he was trying to tell them a great deal.

Bae found a room full of Books. Blank Books.

“Whoa,” Emma said. “These were definitely not here before.”

“This is a message from the Sorcerer, clearly,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“What’s he trying to say?” she asked urgently.

He flipped through one of the Books. “I have no idea.” _He can’t be trusted. He wants to destroy us._

He looked more closely at the room itself. Like the rest of the building, it was ostentatious, almost gaudy. In some ways, it reminded him of the Dark Castle, and nearly everything about it, too, had been a message. But the Sorcerer was not ostentatious. He was so reserved, in fact, that many people doubted that he existed at all. No Dark One had ever encountered him face to face, not that Rumplestiltskin knew of. _And where is the Apprentice?_ There was something off about this entire situation. _He’s a threat. Find him. Kill him._

“This place is creepy,” Bae said, searching through a shelf Books for something more than empty pages.

“Indeed,” Rumplestiltskin agreed. “We should call the puppet. He is our source on the Author.”

“He knows more than you?” the dwarf asked.

“About this, yes. Recall that his information initially came directly from the Apprentice. They wanted him, and him specifically, to know these things. It is not common knowledge.” Rumplestiltskin, closed the Book in his hands, examining its construction.

Very shortly before the first curse, the Author’s Quill had come into his possession. Rumplestiltskin had assumed at the time that he had stumbled upon it through sheer happenstance, but these new developments could not be ignored. The Sorcerer had plans - plans that involved Rumplestiltskin and his family. And he wanted Rumplestiltskin to know it.

_He wants to destroy us. He wants to control us._

_Control - could he want the dagger?_

Rumplestiltskin looked up sharply. The thought had not occurred to him before now, but if it were correct, he was in terrible danger. The Dark One’s power was matchless, except for the gods, Reul Ghorm… and the Sorcerer. If he desired the dagger, there was little Rumplestiltskin could do to protect it.

_He’ll own you. He’ll kill you._

He put the Book down and moved to explore the rest of the room. “Seeing anything?” Miss Swan asked. 

He shook his head. “The Books are a message, but what the Sorcerer means by them, I cannot guess.”

“I thought the Sorcerer was a good guy,” the dwarf said. “Shouldn’t we be more worried about Malcolm and Ingrid?”

“He’s working with Ingrid,” Emma said flatly. “And remember who else we all thought was a good guy until we realized that she lied.”

“Blue,” the fairy said unnecessarily.

“Right,” the dwarf said, looking at his lady unhappily. Rumplestiltskin could at least echo the sentiment.

His head reeling, Rumplestiltskin moved into the next room.

And there it was, sitting prominently on a coffee table.

The Hat.

_Take it! It can free you! It can save you!_

He couldn’t breathe. The solution. The perfect solution to quiet the voices in his head and protect him from ever again being controlled by the dagger. He’d be able to keep the magic that he needed to protect his family (and to simply function) and he’d be free! And it was sitting directly in front of him, offered up for the taking.

_It can save you! Take it! Use it!_

“Rumple?” Belle called. She was right behind him. She’d be here in a moment. He waved his hand and sent the Hat to the space under his shop’s floorboards where he had hidden the dagger.

He turned, knowing he shouldn’t have done that. _It’s the only way. It can save you._

“Rumple! You’re as white as a sheet! What’s wrong? What did you see?”

She ran to him, taking his hand, pushing back his hair, looking into his eyes, and all he could do was stare at her. “I…”

She shook her head. “It’s too soon. We pushed you too hard.” She tried to guide him to the sofa. “Come here, come sit down.”

“No, Belle, I…”

She curled her fingers behind his neck and looked in his eyes with nothing but love and concern. “What?”  
 _  
You can’t protect her. Not without the Hat. The Hat is the key. It will save you. It will save her._

_I know what powers it. I can’t use it. I will lose them._

_Feed it Ingrid. Feed it Reul Ghorm. No one would mind._

“I… I don’t know what to do.”

She pulled him close. “It’s all right. We will figure this out. You’re not alone; you’re safe now.” _No, I’m not._ “Come sit down. It’s all right.”

“I don’t know what the Sorcerer is planning.”

“That’s OK; we’ll figure it out. You haven’t had time to catch your breath. Everything will be fine.”

The others had noticed his moment of panic. Bae walked over, one of the Books still in his hands. “Papa?” Miss Swan and the rest were watching them, some more obviously than others.

Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath and stepped back. “I’m fine Bae. Just a little… overreaction. I’m fine.”

“We should go back to the shop,” Belle said. “You’re not well.”

“I’m _fine._ ”

“Rumple-”

“Belle, please.” She had every reason to believe that he was broken and useless, but he had at least hoped that she would have enough respect for him not to do this in front of Bae and half the heroes in town. They were looking at him with pity now, and he could not abide that. He drew himself up, once again falling back on the mannerisms of Mr. Gold because everything of Rumplestiltskin was fractured and crumbling. “I’m fine,” he repeated again, his tone firm and cold.

She didn’t believe it for a moment, but she let it lie. He was grateful that she cared, he truly was, but if he had to play the part of pitiable victim, he was going to shatter completely, and then every enemy he had ever made was going to swarm them to feast on the remains. “All right,” she said. “But let me stay by you. Four eyes are better than two.”

He nodded, hating everything about himself. “All right.”

XxXxXxX

Other than the Books, they didn’t find anything new in the Sorcerer’s house. Gold did have an idea about finding Ingrid’s base with some sort of fairy dust concoction, and he eventually left with Bae and Belle to work on that. As per his other suggestion, Emma called August, to see if he was with it enough to discuss the Author. He actually seemed pretty chipper for someone who had spent the night getting drunk with Regina.

“How’s your head?” Emma asked.

“It will be better after a shower. What’s up?”

“There’s an ice wall around the entire town. Gold thinks the Sorcerer is here and set up Ingrid to do… whatever she’s going to do. He confirmed that the unclaimed mansion is definitely his, and we found a room full of blank Books that are some kind of message, he just doesn’t know what it is. Oh, and Malcolm’s probably after the dagger.”

“…so just another day in Storybrooke?”

“Funny,” she said flatly, “How’s Regina?”

“Pissed and hung over, but not evil, I don’t think.”

“Well, that’s something. About these Books, is there anything about the Authors you haven’t told us yet?”

“Um, yeah, actually. It didn’t come up before, but the current Author had a falling out with the Sorcerer and Apprentice.”

“What kind of falling out?”

“He was changing things, altering events instead of just recording them. I don’t know exactly what he changed, but when they caught him doing it, they imprisoned him.”

“Wait, he can do that?”

“Yeah. Although he’s really, really not supposed to.”

“OK, wow. Do you know where they imprisoned him?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure I should say.”

“August…”

“This is dangerous information, Emma. If Ingrid is watching us, and she lets him out, we are in big trouble. The current Author is not a good guy; he should stay where he is.”

Emma frowned. “Wait a minute… could he have created Nate?”

“No, not unless he was kept in cryogenic storage somewhere. This happened right before the curse hit; Nate showed up seventeen years later.”

“So what can the Author change?”

“As far as I know? Anything. Literally anything. He’s from outside the storytelling realms, so the rules of magic do not apply to him.”

“Oh, that’s all we need.”

“That’s why he should stay where he is.”

Emma sighed. It didn’t seem right. Aside from the imprisonment angle, nothing they knew about the Sorcerer said he was a good guy. If Gold was right, he’d sold her out to Ingrid, and they knew that he hadn’t raised a finger to help them so far. Who was to say their treatment of the Author was just? And the Books - what did it all mean? “We need to talk this out with Gold. He thinks the Apprentice gave you this information on purpose; how do we know we’re not just walking into their trap? Maybe the Author is the key to this.”

“That’s possible, Emma. You know my shift at the library; come get me when you’re ready. But really, I think this is a sign. I think we need to come clean about Nate. If it’s part of the bigger plan-”

“No.” She’d known he was going to say that, but it wasn’t the right time. She didn’t know what the right time would look like, but this certainly wasn’t it.

He huffed. “If you say so.”

“I do. Don’t fight me on this, August.”

“I won’t. I’m not. I just think you should consider it; that’s all.”

“I have considered it. Go take your shower. I’ll get Gold. We can figure this out, just the three of us.” Although it was clear by this point that Gold was not at 100%. He’d had some kind of panic attack back at the Sorcerer’s mansion, and anyone would be messed up after what Zelena had done to him. But he was still the most brilliant mind in Storybrooke, and he was holding it together better than most could have. He would have the answers. He always had the answers.

XxXxXxX

“I agree with Mr. Booth,” Rumplestiltskin said. “The Author should not be disturbed.”

“He called me Mr. Booth; he must be serious. You should listen to him,” the puppet said. Emma smacked him lightly on the head for that.

“Ow! Hangover!”

“And how is dear Regina today?” Rumplestiltskin asked mildly. _She’s a threat. Destroy her. She tried to turn them against you._

“More hungover than me, but there were no curses, and nothing got set on fire, so I think we’re all right for the foreseeable future.”

“All right, then.” _Kill her._

The Savior sighed. “So why do you think August is right?”

“Because I think the Sorcerer intends for someone to attempt to use the Author.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your mother was not the only person who made a deal with me while I was in Reul Ghorm’s prison, awaiting the curse.”

“The Author?” she asked sharply.

“No. A guard. What’s relevant is what they had to trade: the Author’s Quill.”

“Well that’s a hell of a coincidence,” the puppet said.

“Exactly. It’s falling into place: the blank Books, the Quill. I even know what he would need for ink.”

“What?”

Rumplestiltskin looked at her. “Your blood, tainted by darkness.” _Do it. You could change everything. Have everything._

“What?”

“You are the Savior; the hero of the tale. If you were to turn dark, the story changes. With that ink, the Quill, and the Books, everything could be rewritten.”

“How could you even know something like that? You said August was our expert on the Author.”

“He is. A vision struck me, after I obtained the Quill, showing me the source of the ink. And we have a theory as to where my visions come from, don’t we?”

She blinked. “Do we?”

“Gold and I both think they were a set up,” August said. “From Blue or the gods or whoever. They were too perfect setting up the curse, and then they stopped after it happened? That’s too coincidental.”

“Goddamn.”

“Literally,” Rumplestiltskin said dryly.

“So what do we do? Just leave the Author where he is?”

“For now,” Rumplestiltskin said, and the puppet nodded. “But we monitor the location; we must know if he escapes. Additionally, we keep an eye out for anything that might sway you to darkness, dearie. You’re the ink; without that, the Author is powerless.”

“Monitoring the location isn’t hard,” August said. “It’s in Storybrooke.”

“Another fact that is far too coincidental,” Rumplestiltskin said. _Do it. Take control of your fate._

“Storybrooke? How? Where is it?” Emma asked.

“Promise you won’t freak out.” _Oh, that never helps._

“Why would I freak out? August!”

“It’s in the Book.” 

“What does that mean? You just said it was in Storybrooke; the Book is about the Enchanted Forest!”

“I didn’t say it was described in the Book, I said it’s in the Book. Literally.”

“August, what-”

“The Author is trapped inside the Book, Miss Swan. In one of the pages,” Rumplestiltskin explained. “Clever. Which one?” he asked the puppet.

“The door. The one without any accompanying text.”

“And you knew this the whole time? August, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because he’s dangerous! And for the record, no one asked.”

“How do we even know that the Sorcerer was justified in trapping him there?”

“If he was changing things, he was,” Rumplestiltskin said. “It is a violation of his role as the Author.”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “It seems wrong. You said he can’t do anything with out the ink, right? Maybe we should let him out. Ask him questions. Maybe he knows about the Sorcerer’s plan with Ingrid.”

“Unless this was the plan,” Rumplestiltskin said. “The Quill and the Books being here cannot be coincidence. We know that Mr. Booth’s information came from the Apprentice. And as for the ink, if Ingrid’s plan were to succeed, he would have his ink. She means to turn you and Elsa into her ideal sisters; perfect mirrors of herself.”

“And you think she actually has a shot at that? How long have you known me, Gold? Do you think I would ever let someone play me like that?”

“We could put it to a vote,” the puppet said. “This isn’t a Nate issue; the Council needs to know.”

_You don’t need their permission. You are the Dark One! Take what you want!_ “The argument could be made,” Rumplestiltskin said.

Emma nodded decisively. “All right. But Nate stays out of it.”

“Agreed,” Rumplestiltskin said.

The puppet sighed. “Fine.”


	4. Up in the Air

“So that’s it,” Emma said. “Do you have anything to add, August? Gold?”

“Aside from the fact that I believe releasing the Author would be extraordinarily dangerous, no,” Rumplestiltskin said. August just shook his head.

Mary Margaret sat with her new son in her arms and willed herself not to share a horrified glance with her husband. After everything they’d done to keep Emma from going dark, they could not risk it happening now. She _would not_ lose her daughter, not after everything. “I agree with Rumplestiltskin,” she said.

“You do?” Emma asked, frowning.

“It’s too coincidental. The Books, the Quill, and someone who wants to turn you dark all turning up at just the right time? We were so afraid of Zelena changing time; how is this different?” 

“A fair point,” Rumplestiltskin agreed.

“Does the Author really need my mom’s blood to change the story?” Henry asked Rumplestiltskin.

“That is what my vision indicated.”

“And have all your visions been true?” Emma asked. “You said you couldn’t trust the source.”

“Not all came to pass, but I’ve never had one that was overtly false. And I have had many, over the years.”

“It also seems very coincidental to me that Emma would turn out to be the other sister Ingrid desires,” Elsa said thoughtfully. “It makes sense for it to be me; she’s my aunt and our powers are the same, but Emma’s aren’t like that. And if any powers would do, why Emma? There are a lot of witches in Misthaven.”

“I believe the Sorcerer was involved in that as well,” Rumplestiltskin said. “I’ve suspected that Ingrid was in contact with the Apprentice because of the Hat. Regina was so swayed by my argument that when she was looking for the Apprentice to obtain passage back to Earth, she sent Maleficent to find Ingrid. Maleficent was never heard from again.”

Mary Margaret did look at David then. They had known that; Regina had told them. And they knew why Maleficent had been trying to get back to Earth. _What have we done?_

“Could he make it so that Elsa and Emma really were Ingrid’s sisters?” Anna asked. “I mean, it’s awful he’s trapped and all, but if he was changing things, and he could change anything, he could change things for Ingrid. Her mirror was destroyed, so how else is she going to get what she wants?”

“Yes,” August said. “He’s not allowed to re-write his own story; he loses his power if he does that. But he can rewrite any else’s, including Ingrid’s.”

“Or Malcolm’s,” Bae said. “Maybe it’s not Ingrid that’s going to try this; maybe it’s Malcolm. He could make him Pan again.” 

Rumplestiltskin went pale, and Belle took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “Quite possible, Bae,” he said.

“Then I think we’re agreed,” Mary Margaret said, “The Author needs to stay where he is.”

“Could he rewrite my mom’s story?” Henry asked. “I mean, my other mom? Give her her happy ending?”

“That’s a bad idea, Henry,” August said. “He’s not supposed to change things, just record. Regina will figure it out.”

“But-”

“All magic comes with a price, lad, don’t forget that,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Whatever the price would be for the Author to rewrite Regina’s story, it would be steep indeed.”

“And you couldn’t change hers without changing all of ours,” Bae said. “Mary Margaret is right; it would be just like Zelena’s time spell.”

Henry crossed his arms, frowning. “It doesn’t seem right.”

“We can put it to a vote,” August said.

“Yes,” David agreed, and Mary Margaret stared at him. He looked back at her and shrugged. Graham whimpered and Mary Margaret bounced him in her arms.

“All for letting him out?” Emma asked. Henry, Archie, and Nova were the only ones that raised their hands, and after a heartbeat, Emma raised hers. “All opposed?”

Mary Margaret raised her hand, joined by August, Rumplestiltskin, Baelfire, and Belle, the dwarves, Granny, Ruby, and Tink. David gave her a long look, then raised his hand too. The decision was made. 

XxXxXxX

“So what is you plan, lass?” Malcolm asked Ingrid.

Her opinion of him had not improved. He was conniving and had no scruples or regard for family. That latter fact made him useful, but she could not help but be disgusted by how casually he spoke about murdering his son - even if that son were Rumplestiltskin.

“I need to make Emma and Elsa see that I am their true family. The others will always see them as different, as monsters.”

“To me, it doesn’t seem as if these heroes are much bothered by having monsters in their midst.”

“They all say that, and then something happens. This is how it will happen; the Sorcerer promised me.” 

“I see. I don’t suppose he mentioned the dagger?”

She smiled sardonically at him. “Sorry, no.”

“No matter. I know Rumple. He’s weak, especially now. You missed the show, but Zelena did a damn good job of breaking his spirit. It won’t take much to make him crack.”

“And you know exactly where to apply pressure, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Oh, aye, lassie.”

XxXxXxX

“Does it have to do with the Author?” Bae asked on their way back from the meeting.

“Does what have to do with the Author?” Papa asked. Belle had looped her arm through his and was sticking close. He was holding on too, just as hard.

“The thing Emma’s discussing with you.”

“You know I can’t answer that, Bae; I promised Miss Swan that I would respect her decision to keep this private.”

“It has to do with Henry, doesn’t it?”

“Bae, stop it,” Belle said. “Your father said he can’t tell us.”

Papa looked at her then back to Bae. “I’m sorry, son, but I can’t. This is Miss Swan’s decision.” But there was more to it than that. There was guilt in Papa’s expression. Bae knew that his father was going through a terrible time right now, but keeping secrets was dangerous, especially for Papa, and especially when he was hurt or frightened.

But Bae knew pushing wouldn’t help. A deal was a deal, and his father would not break his word to Emma even if he wanted to. It was Emma’s mind he had to change, not his Papa’s. “I understand,” he said.

Papa’s smile was fragile. “Thank you, Bae.” 

XxXxXxX

Elsa got a call from Emma the next morning. “Can you make it to the pawn shop? Gold thinks he has a way to locate Ingrid’s base.” Elsa had been at a loss after yesterday’s meeting, so this was good news.

“Oh, yes, of course. Anna and I will be there right away.”

“Great. See you.”

“Be where?” Anna asked as Elsa hung up. “Did they find Ingrid?”

“Rumplestiltskin thinks he has a way to find her.”

“Great! Should I call Kristoff?” He was at his job at the Storybrooke Heritage Farm. Anna had been about to leave for her own shift at the library, but Belle and Mr. Hansen were both a lot more flexible than Mr. Slade when it came to leaving work to fight witches.

“Not yet. It didn’t sound like they were planning a full assault; they might not need him just yet.”

“OK! I’ll get my coat.”

Anna chatted the entire way to the shop, as anyone who knew her would expect her to. Elsa nodded and m’hmed in all the right places, but her mind was on the possible confrontation with Ingrid. What was she going to say to her? What was Ingrid going to do? Elsa had always longed for someone to understand her and her powers, but the only other person she’d met who shared them was everything Elsa had tried so hard not to be.

In truth, the closest Elsa had felt to someone concerning her powers was Rumplestiltskin, during those months he had taught her back in Misthaven. His powers had been (and now were again) elemental, like hers, and over time he had convinced her that there was nothing her magic could not do if she could just think about it the right way.

But then he was captured, and she was touched by his own curse.

She was still afflicted by that darkness. She’d lived with it for months, not understanding what it was, only knowing that something was terribly, terribly wrong. She’d fought it the best she could, and while she’d been able to keep herself from losing control on a large scale, her internal struggles had left her exhausted and essentially useless in the battle against Zelena.

She wondered if he would be willing to teach her again. He had lived with this curse for so long and been able to transform himself from a terrible villain into a great hero even while burdened by the full weight of it. _Maybe he’s just stronger than I am._

But he could be hurt too. She’d seen him become overwhelmed at the Sorcerer’s mansion yesterday, and she’d see him attempt to attack Zelena at the barn. He’d suffered terribly, but while he may have lost control of his emotions for a few moments, his magic had never been compromised. If he could teach her how to do the same, she could feel safe again.

“Hi!” Anna greeted him cheerfully as they entered the shop. Anna loved the little bell on the door. They were common on Arendale, but his shop was the only one in Storybrooke that had one.

“Good morning, Anna, Elsa.”

“Hey,” Emma said. Tink was also there, along with Baelfire and Belle. Belle waved at them, her other hand curled protectively over Rumplestiltskin’s shoulder. 

“Is this everyone?” Elsa asked.

“For now,” Rumplestiltskin said. 

“David was going to come, but the baby kept them up all night,” Emma added. “Gold told him to stay home.”

“I remember those days,” Rumplestiltskin said, smiling slightly. “And it would not be wise for someone suffering from sleep deprivation to attempt what we will be doing today.”

“What are we doing today?” Elsa asked. “Emma said you had a plan?”

“I do. I spent the evening mixing this.” He gestured to a pair of large jars sitting on the counter. They were filled with dust that sparkled slightly. Elsa could feel the magic in them, though it was mild.

“Oh, what is it?” Anna asked eagerly. “I mean, it’s magic, obviously. That’s what you do. But what kind of magic? Will it turn Ingrid into something icky?”

“The argument could be made that Ingrid already is something icky,” Rumplestiltskin said dryly, and Anna giggled. “But no. This is a mixture of fairy dust combined with a number of inert substances. If we release it above the town, it will blanket it, releasing magic into the land as fairy dust does.”

“And how will that help?” Emma asked.

“I was getting to that. This mixture is just the right strength to be repelled by one of Malcolm’s barriers without being able to cross it. If we blanket the town, any area left bare is where we can expect to find their lair. Assuming, of course, that Ingrid has erected such a barrier.”

“And if she hasn’t?”

“Then we’ll try something else.”

“Great!” Anna declared. “I like this plan! So how do we release the dust?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “That would be why I requested Tinker Bell’s assistance. I do hope none of you are afraid of heights.”

XxXxXxX

Emma was going to get Gold for this. It was one thing to be flying high over the Earth in a pressurized plane cabin, quite another to do it on a magic carpet with nothing to hold on to but the person sitting on front of you. “I don’t suppose you could loosen your grip, Emma?” Tink asked. Emma’s fingers were digging pretty hard into her midsection.

“Sorry!” Emma had to shout over the wind. Naturally, Gold, that bastard, was sitting perfectly content behind her, hanging on to nothing but the jar of dust. Anna and Elsa had the other on a second, smaller carpet. Anna was shrieking with joy as she zoomed around on the thing, Elsa clinging to her tightly from behind. At least Emma wasn’t the only one miserable.

“So what are we waiting for?” she asked. She wanted down.

Gold signaled to Anna, who waved back cheerfully and steered her carpet west. “Here we go,” Tink announced as they went east. Once they approached the town line, Gold started releasing the dust. The plan was to start on the edge of town and work inwards, as both Emma and Gold predicted the base would be somewhere out of the way, probably in the woods. They had already agreed to send up a magical flare if they found the barrier. 

Emma had wondered how easy to would be to see the gray dust against the landscape, but as soon as it started falling, it began to sparkle much more brightly, almost causing the forest to glow. It was a strange contrast to the bare trees and dull, November weather. 

“Having fun?” Emma asked Tink, who was grinning and giggling occasionally. Tink had always struck her as very grounded, so it was weird.

“Yes!” she said. “I’m a fairy, remember! It’s like having my wings back!”

“Are you uncomfortable, Miss Swan?” Gold asked, the smug bastard. Whatever it was that had triggered him yesterday clearly did not apply to zooming through the air on a magic carpet. 

“No!” she shouted back.

“As you say.”

“Shut up!” She could swear she could hear him chuckling. _Bastard._

“Look!” Tink shouted. They’d followed the town line north, and Emma could just see the road out of town on their distant ten o’clock. Tink pointed to a clearing flanked by a small gorge; everything around it was sparking, but the clearing itself was blank.

“I think we’ve found it,” Gold agreed, and tossed his hand forward, releasing a ball of light that exploded into a red and gold firework. It even boomed like one.

Emma jumped at the noise, and Gold jerked, ducking his head and gripping the carpet with his free hand, the other wrapped tightly around the jar. Emma looked back and caught a glimpse of raw terror in is face before he shut his eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and opened them again, reassuming the arrogantly bored persona of Mr. Gold. 

So apparently whatever it was hadn’t stayed behind at the Sorcerer’s mansion. Knowing that drawing attention to it was worst thing she could do, Emma just held on to Tink as the fairy steered them into a gentle spiral of a landing.

XxXxXxX

The flight had been invigorating. After so long confined indoors, the cold, rushing wind and swirl of magic had felt like freedom. Even his curse had been silent, unable to find fault with the feeling.

And then Rumplestiltskin had panicked at the sound of his own firework. Humiliated and still shaken, he held on tightly to the carpet and the jar until they were on solid ground again. As he stepped onto the cold dirt and scattered pine needles, he regretted leaving his cane behind. As long as he had magic he didn’t need it to walk, but the weight of it was comforting in his hand. _Pathetic. Weak._

At least Miss Swan was far too grateful to have her feet once again under her to notice his discomfort. He was Mr. Gold. He would not waver in that, not in front of them. “So, what can you tell us about it?” she asked him.

Just to give his hands something to do, he withdrew a handful of dust and blew it at the barrier. They could all see the grains meet invisible resistance and be pushed back, as if by a very gentile wind. He reached out a hand and touched where the dust had been repelled. “Malcolm’s spell, Ingrid’s work, most certainly. Come touch it; it feels cold.”

“Why should I touch it?”

“To get acquainted with the feel if Ingrid’s magic. Being able to recognize a particular magic user’s work is incredibly useful; at least it has been so for me.”

“OK,” she said warily, reaching out. “Woah, it is cold. Zelena’s barrier wasn’t like this.”

“Precisely. Although Zelena’s barrier was not solely her work.”

She looked at him. “She made you…?”

He nodded, not looking at her. “Yes.”

“How come Regina couldn’t figure that out? Doesn’t she know what your magic feels like by now?”

“Regina never bothered to hone this particular skill. She can sense darkness and light but little else. She’s not interested in skills that require patience and subtly.”

“Yeah, well I’m not exactly well known for that myself.”

He shrugged and took a step back. “It’s up to you. But at the very least, it might be useful for you to be able to distinguish Ingrid’s powers from Elsa’s.”

“OK, I can see that.” She ran her hand further along the barrier. She pushed against it experimentally, exclaiming when her hand passed through, disappearing from sight. “Woah!”

Rumplestiltskin frowned and attempted to do the same. The barrier did not give. “Tinker Bell?” he asked.

The fairy nodded and pushed on it; like him, she could not break through. “She’s inviting you in,” Rumplestiltskin told Emma. 

“Yeah, no thanks,” she said, wiping her palm against her trousers as if the barrier had tainted her hand. 

“Hi!” They looked up at Anna’s cheerful shout. Elsa shrieked as her sister took them into a much deeper dive than Tinker Bell had attempted.

“Careful!” Emma shouted. Rumplestiltskin raised his hand to intervene, but Anna proved to have the skill to match her recklessness. She came to neat stop not five feet from the barrier. 

“Wow! That is so much fun! Way better than a bike down the stairs or a ship! We could see everything! Where did you get this? Elsa, Elsa, we should get one for royal business! We could go see Grand Pabbie in like, ten minutes! It would be great!”

Elsa patted her sister blindly as she staggered off the carpet. “Yes, yes. Just… try not to go so fast next time.” Tinker Bell extended a hand and steadied the weather witch as she approached the barrier. “This is it?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Yes. Here, see?” He touched it again.

Elsa did the same. “Yes, I see. Just like Zelena’s, but colder.” _Stop mentioning that name, please._

“This is definitely Ingrid’s work. Feel the crystalline structure? Just like ice.”

“Oh. Oh, yes, I…” She put a little too much weight into her explorations, stumbling forward, through the barrier. 

“Elsa!” Anna cried.


	5. Resolve

Elsa spun around as Anna cried her name. She moved to step back through the barrier but collided with it instead. “Anna!”

“She can’t hear you.”

“Ingrid!” Her aunt was suddenly standing to her left, wearing the white gown she’d had in Arendale. It was her armor, as Elsa’s own turquoise gown was hers. “Let me go!”

“I will. I just wanted a chance to talk to you first.”

“Elsa!” Anna was beating on the barrier, and Emma, her expression resolute, reached through. 

“Miss Swan,” Rumplestiltskin warned, but Emma just shook her head.

“I’m not leaving her behind.”

“Please!” Anna said, “Get her out of there!”

Rumplestiltskin frowned, but acquiesced. “As you will. We will wait.” Emma nodded and stepped through.

“Hello, Ingrid,” she said coldly. “Doing all right, Elsa?”

“I would never harm her,” Ingrid said. “Or you.”

“But everyone else is fair game, am I right?”

“They could never understand us.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? The Dark One, the fairies, the dwarves, the werewolves, the guy who used to be a magical puppet, and Regina, none of them understand what it is to have magic? In this whole town, it’s just you?”

“Well, I should hope I would be better company than the Dark One and the Evil Queen,” Ingrid said with a sardonic smile.

“You hope wrong,” Emma said flatly. 

“Yes,” Elsa agreed. “Rumplestiltskin taught me more about my powers than anyone ever has-”

“He corrupted your powers!” Ingrid shouted, “And he kept you in that urn for years! He’s a monster!”

“As I understand it, the power corruption thing was Zelena’s fault, and the urn was yours. Spell of Shattered Sight, something like that?” Emma challenged.

“He doesn’t care about you. None of them do, not like I do.”

“Well, that’s not stalkery or anything. Come on, Ingrid, let’s get real. This isn’t about us; it’s about you. You want a pair of sisters to recreate the family you think you deserve, and Elsa and I are just the best fit. You don’t know a thing about either of us, and you sure as hell don’t care about us.”

“That’s not true, Emma. I know you. I cared for you when no one else did. Not your parents, not the puppet. You were all alone, and I took you in.”

Emma put her hands on her hips. “The six months I’ve got missing from my memories, right? So you took me in? Couldn’t have been that great - I ran away.”

“Because you didn’t understand. You didn’t realize how special you were.”

“Yeah, the stalker vibes are really not subsiding here.”

Ingrid only smiled. “You’ll see I’m right. They’ll turn on you; they always turn on people like us. Eventually, they’ll see you as nothing but a monster.”

“The werewolves and the Dark One will see us as the monsters. Got it.”

“Emma, please, if you believe nothing else, believe this: you must not trust Rumplestiltskin.”

Emma sighed and pinched her nose. “Not this again. I’ve heard it before. Gold is what he is; we all know that. Trying to make him out to be the bigger villain literally never works. It just makes you look desperate.”

“He is the bigger villain. You don’t know how many lives he has destroyed, how many people he has killed.”

“And how many have you killed?” Elsa demanded, “What about Arendale? You froze my entire kingdom!”

“I never wanted to hurt anybody! Helga was an accident!”

“And everybody after that?’ Emma asked.

“I was only protecting myself.”

“Bull. Shit.”

“Emma, that is not appropriate language.”

“It’s perfectly appropriate. You’re feeding us bullshit. And the sad part is that you actually believe it. But that doesn’t make you right; it only make you delusional.”

Ingrid was still smiling that unsettling, little smile. “I’m not delusional. You’ll see, both of you. It won’t be long now.”

Elsa jumped as Anna, sick of waiting and very worried, pounded on the barrier again. “Elsa!”

Ingrid shrugged. “You can go to her for now. I know you won’t believe me until it happens to you.” And then she disappeared.

“Goddamn,” Emma said. Elsa stared at the spot Ingrid had vanished from for a moment, but couldn’t stand to leave Anna frightened on the other side of the barrier. She reached for her sister’s hand and was able to grasp it.

“Elsa!” Anna all but pulled her bodily though the barrier, caching her in a tight hug. “You’re all right!”

“I’m fine, Anna. Ingrid only wanted to talk, that’s all.”

“And what did she say?” Rumplestiltskin asked.

“Same old, same old,” Emma answered, stepping through the barrier. “She’s the only one that understands us, everyone else will betray us, blah, blah, blah. You got a special mention.”

He smirked, “How flattering.”

“She did say that she ‘took me in’ during those missing months. So, yeah, you were right; she was outside the curse.”

“Which raises the question of how she got inside without Regina noticing.”

“Right. I’d recommend checking in with her next, but she’s not exactly talking to me.”

“What about the outlaw?”

“She told him not to contact her.”

“I see. Hesitant as I am to bring Henry into this, he may be the only person she would be willing to speak to.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to go down that road just yet. August seemed optimistic. Let’s give her a couple of days; she might be more reasonable then. In the meantime, I think I might have a way to find out what happened during those missing months.”

Emma had mentioned this at the meeting yesterday, what her life had been like before she came to Storybrooke. Elsa’s heart broke for her, and she was incensed that Ingrid would take advantage. 

“What way?” Elsa asked.

“I have this old video camera from that time. Haven’t looked at it or thought about it in years. I wonder if I got any footage of her.”

“Oh. Yes, look into that. The other thing… the way she phrased it… I really do wonder if she is intending to cast the Spell of Shattered Sight. It’s the only thing that would cause everyone to turn on us.”

“Or she is just delusional,” Emma said.

“Possible,” Rumplestiltskin said absently. “We should head back. Tinker Bell?” He turned to the fairy, and she coaxed the magic carpet to rise so they could climb on.

“Uh, I don’t suppose we could skip the whole magic carpet thing?” Emma asked. Elsa agreed.

“It’s a rather long walk,” Rumplestiltskin said sardonically. 

“Not if you poof us there.”

Rumplestiltskin’s smirk deepened. “Poof?”

“Teleport. Whatever.”

“I can,” Elsa said. “It’s faster anyway.”

“You don’t want to go on the carpet again?” Anna asked crestfallen.

“Well… not really. Maybe Kristoff would like to go with you later?” Of course, neither of the carpets belonged to them, but Elsa was sure that Tink, at least, would be happy to loan hers if Anna asked.

“Maybe!”

“Very well,” Rumplestiltskin said, and with no more warning than that, waved his hand and transported them all to the library.

“Gold, we talked about this - warnings!” Emma complained, gripping the Circulation Desk. Anna staggered a bit too but seemed to consider it a fun game. She let out a hard breath then laughed lightly. 

Belle had been sitting at a table with Nova; she’d sprung to her feet as soon as they had arrived. “Rumple! How did it go?”

“We found the location of Ingrid’s stronghold, and she had words with Anna and Elsa.”

Belle looked at them. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “She just wanted to talk. This time. I’ve got a lead to follow up on; I’ll be in touch, Gold, OK?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Of course, Miss Swan.”

“Bye, Emma!” Anna waved cheerfully, taking off her coat. If they were done for now, Elsa should be getting to work too.

“Is there anything I should do while Emma checks her camera?” she asked Rumplestiltskin.

“Be wary. And careful of mirrors. You may be right about the Spell of Shattered Sight. The Genie’s mirror was her most obvious target, but there are others, and we now know that Ingrid was awake during the curse. She had much more time to prepare than we originally thought.”

“That’s right!” Anna said. “She could be ready to cast it now! There’s got to be a way to stop her!”

“I’m certain there is, or she would not have protected her stronghold with such a barrier. There is also the matter of making Miss Swan and your sister love her. Do you believe that she is so far gone as to believe that causing your loved ones to destroy each other would endear her to you?” he asked Elsa.

“Maybe,” she said. “Emma called her delusional; I think she really does believe that the town believes that we are monsters, and she had a plan to prove it to us. She brushed it off when Emma mentioned that you and out other magical friends wouldn’t have any reason to think that. But she has to know that we will blame her if everyone turns on us because of the Curse of Shattered Sight, doesn’t she? She tried it with Anna, and that’s exactly what happened.”

He nodded. “Yes. And there is also the matter that Anna herself is immune, as am I. There must be more to her plan.”

“Like what?” Anna asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said, looking at nothing in particular. Belle had wrapped her arms around him, and he tightened his around her. “There are several possibilities, some more plausible than others. I’ll need to think on it.”

Belle pushed back his long hair with a concerned look on her face, “You’re chilled through,” she said. He smiled shyly at her, and Elsa did not want to intrude.

“Thank you,” she said. “For helping us. I’ll be at work if you learn anything new.”

He nodded. “Very well. Do you need more time here?” he asked Belle.

“No,” she said. “I’ll go back to the shop with you.”

“Bae?” He’d been in the stacks and emerged after they had arrived.

“Up for a run, Tink?” he asked the fairy.

“You sure?” she asked. “It’s bloody cold out there.”

He smirked. “That why you have to keep moving.”

“Let me drop this off,” she said, lifting her carpet. “I’ll meet you at the shop.”

“Cool.”

She and Elsa turned to leave. “Bye,” Elsa told her sister.

“See you at six!” Anna called, waving cheerfully.

XxXxXxX

Papa knew more about Ingrid’s plan than her was telling. He’d gotten quiet when he’d mentioned it, and Bae knew he was hiding something. He was trying to figure out how to bring it up when Papa suddenly stopped walking, pulling Belle close to him and extending his other arm to keep Bae back. “Stop,” he said. “Don’t move.”

“Rumple, what is it?”

Bae followed his gaze and saw a small, straw doll standing in front of the door to the shop. “What is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Papa said, but the horrified expression on his face belied that. “Stay here,” he repeated.

He released Belle, who reached for Bae’s hand. Papa approached the doll with his hand outstretched and his face ashen with fear. “Papa?”

“Hush.” He knelt down in front of it, leveling his hand just above it. He closed his eyes for a moment, then picked it up and stood, clutching it to his chest.

“Papa, what is it?” Bae asked sternly.

“A message,” he said, swallowing hard. “From Malcolm.”

“Malcolm?” Belle abandoned Bae to rush over to Papa. “What does it mean? Rumple?”

“I don’t know.” Papa took a step back then held the doll in front of him, laying it flat in his palm. Belle jumped as it burst into flames. His face grim, Papa shook the ashes off his hand. “Come on; it’s cold out here.”

XxXxXxX

What do you want? Rumplestiltskin would have shouted at the gods had he been alone. _Haven’t you taken enough from me?_

Ingrid had to have been sent to drive Miss Swan into the arms of the golem; it was simply too coincidental. They had sent her back in time with Jones to achieve… something, and now they were using Malcolm as well as Ingrid as their instrument.

_They want to destroy you. The Dark One is unnatural. It defies them._

_They why allow it to exist for so long? Why offer the curse to Malcolm?_

He would not allow it to happen. The Hat could save him; it could save all of them. But then the appearance of the Hat was also too coincidental. 

And suddenly, it all made sense. He was supposed to use the Hat, to unmake the curse of the Dark One. The Hat was the carrot. Malcolm was the stick.

_You’ll lose your family. You’re already lying to them._

_This is the only way to protect them!_

_Liar. You want to protect yourself. You’re making excuses._

_I’m not! It’s the only explanation that makes sense! The gods desire this!_

_Since when do the gods care if their instruments loose all in service to them?_

That thought brought him up cold. _They don’t._ If he used the Hat, he would lose his family, and the gods would not care. He had given his word, and he was already concealing the truth from the only people that mattered because he knew what they would say.

_Do it; they need never know._

Oh, it was tempting, but utterly absurd. How could he possibly conceal the disappearance of multiple magic users from Storybrooke? _Blame Ingrid. Help her with her spell; no one will notice a few bodies missing from the carnage._

_Destroy Storybrooke?_ For the first time, such a thought seemed truly ghastly.

His curse laughed. _You’re the Dark One. Take what you want._

But he didn’t want this. He was trying to be better. There were people here who had treated his family with nothing but kindness. Who had treated him with kindness when he’d been nothing but a crippled spinner without his memories, or a powerless former Dark One who had done harm to them in the past. _And where did that get you? A helpless slave trapped in a cage._

It was human, wasn’t it, to look out for one’s own self interest? Would the puppet disagree with that? Or Tinker Bell?

_You swore to protect your family. Do it. The gods want this. Honor them._

_I will not sacrifice my family just to fulfill the gods’ plan!_

His curse laughed. _Defy the gods? You think a pathetic coward like you can defy the gods? They have the Author. You will have no choice._

_I will find a way! They have no right to use me this way! To use my boy!_

In this, Rumplestiltskin found himself and the Savior in complete agreement. The gods had no right, just as the Duke had had no right. Why was it that when the Dark One destroyed lives in his manipulation of events he was a villain, and when a ruler did it he was a tyrant, but the gods wishes were supposed to be respected when they did the same? Power did not make one good or right; he understood that more intimately than any mortal possibly could. He was a monster for what he’d done; why should the gods be held to lesser standard than he?

“Rumple?” Belle asked. When they’d entered the shop, she’d given him space to think, but his prolonged silence had to be upsetting her, after their encounter with the doll. She didn’t even know its significance. 

“He wanted me to know he was here,” he said, not knowing how to explain the war in his head. _If you tell her the truth, she will be disgusted by you. She will leave you._

_She didn’t before._

_She could blame Zelena before._

Her face a perfect picture of concern, Belle grasped his upper arms. “What do you want to do?” she asked.

_I want to be left alone! No Malcolm! No gods!_

_Too late for that._ His curse was laughing now, and he was certain that it would drive him insane. “You’re safe behind these walls,” he said. “I had Malcolm in mind when I paced the wards.”

“You want me to cancel my run?” Bae asked. _Yes._ But Rumplestiltskin knew that if he said that now, he wouldn’t let Bae out of his sight until Malcolm was captured. The spell that he’d placed on him while he was his prisoner protected Bae and Belle in the Enchanted Forest, but not here in Storybrooke, and he had not been able to place them on Ingrid at all.

_When did that matter before?_

Even with protections in place, Cora, Regina, and Hook had all come very close to destroying them anyway. _You can’t protect them. You never could. You could save them with the Hat._ But isn’t that what his curse always said? One more artifact. One more lie. One more murder. It was never enough. Why would the Hat be enough?

_It will make you like the Sorcerer. You will be able to keep your magic beyond the town line._

_I can’t get across the bloody town line!_

_Ally with Ingrid._

_She’s allied with Malcolm._ And no way in hell would Rumplestiltskin ever again trust his father with anything at all.

_You’re powerful. She will choose you._

“Papa?”

He’d never answered him. _Weak. Useless._ “You can go, Bae, as long as you stick close to Tinker Bell.” He’d already demanded that change. Mr. Dove did not have magic, but Tinker Bell was a seasoned campaigner, and she knew Pan. 

“You’re sure?” _No._

“Yes. I can’t keep you shut up in here all the time,” he said with a weak smile. “But… I’ll be checking in.” He produced a crystal ball and set it up on the counter.

Bae looked at it and nodded. “OK.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

Belle smiled too. She slid her hands up his arms and around his shoulders to embrace him. “It will be all right. Between us all, Ingrid and Malcolm cannot succeed.”

_And what about the gods?_ What would they do to make him fulfill this task? He had to find a way around it. 

He thought about Ingrid’s ribbons. She would surely come looking for them sooner or later. He hadn’t mentioned them when Anna had asked because he knew that Emma’s immediate response would be to demand that he destroy them. He wasn’t ready to do that; if worse came to worse, he might need them to bargain with Ingrid.

He wondered if she knew they were here at the shop, and if that was the message behind the doll. _Perhaps she does not mean to bargain. Perhaps she means to take them._

_Ingrid cannot steal from the Dark One._

_Malcolm can. Find him. Kill him._

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes and leaned his head against Belle’s. His curse was lying to him. It was trying to control him, and if it made him lose everything, he knew it would only laugh in delight. But Belle would not. Bae would not.

_Damn this curse. Damn the gods. I will find a way. I will not be controlled!_


	6. The Stories Laid Before Us

“Henry, what are you doing here?” Mom asked.

“I know how to help you. I know how you can get your happy ending.” Mom - Emma - was out with Mr. Gold and Elsa dealing with Ingrid. It was the perfect time to sneak out to see his Mom. He would probably catch hell for skipping school, but this was more important.

“Henry-”

“August, Mr. Gold, they both confirmed that he can do it!”

“Who?” she asked suspiciously.

“The Author. The one who wrote my Book. And he’s right here in Storybrooke. It’s fate; it has to be.”

She looked around as if to see if he had been followed and pulled him inside. “What are you talking about?”

Henry told her what August and Mr. Gold had told them about Author, the Books, the Quill, and the ink. “And he’s right here.” He pulled his Book out of his backpack and showed her the page. “He’s behind this door. All we have to do is convince him that you’ve changed; you deserve a happy ending just like everybody else.”

She took the Book from him, staring, awed, at the page. “Did they say how to get him out?”

“August didn’t say, but I’m sure he knows. The Council voted not to do it, but that’s not fair. You weren’t there to argue your case.”

She frowned and let out a long, angry breath through her nose. “Did they have a reason? Was it Gold’s idea?”

“His and August’s. They think the Author is dangerous, and that the gods are trying to trick us into letting him out. August thinks you’ll be able to find your happy ending on your own, but you did and then it got taken away. That’s not fair. Emma wanted to let the Author out.” Henry thought it was important that Mom know that. Emma hadn’t messed up her happy ending on purpose. She was the Savior; she would find a way to fix it. If they freed the Author, Emma would take their side. 

Still looking at the door, she asked, “Why do they think the gods are involved?”

“Because Mr. Gold got a vision telling him about the ink, and then, right before the curse, someone traded him the Quill.”

“He does think his visions were sent by the gods to trick him…”

“But we don’t know that for sure.”

“No.”

“Mom, I’m the Truest Believer; I know this is what we have to do. The hardest part will be the ink, but there has to be a way around that. The heroes always win, and you’re one of them now.”

She looked up. “You think so?”

“Of course! You saved everyone from Greg’s curse, and you defeated Zelena. And August told me bout how you helped everyone back in the Enchanted Forest.”

“Oh, he did, did he?”

“Yeah. About the ogres, and Zelena, and how you trained Elsa. You deserve a happy ending; we’re going to get you one. It can be our own Operation, like I had with Emma.”

Mom frowned. “I don’t recall Operation Scorpion working out that well,” she said guiltily.

“You were still a villain then. You’re a hero now; it will work. We just need a new name.”

She looked at him skeptically, but smiled. “A name?”

“And I have just the one: Operation Mongoose.”

“Wasn’t the one you had with Emma Operation Cobra?”

“Yeah. And I was following the Book with that one. This one is about changing it. You’re not the Evil Queen anymore. The Book doesn’t show that now, but it will.”

She closed the Book and looked at it, then pulled it to her chest with one arm as she hugged him with the other. “So how does Operation Mongoose begin?”

XxXxXxX

Could it be? Could she still get a happy ending? Regina could admit to herself that she’d been wallowing in self-pity. Yesterday, she’d disconnected her phones and nursed her hangover with a bottle of wine. She’d slept badly and late into the morning, only rising to finish off the wine and wonder what the hell she was supposed to do next.

But she should not have underestimated Henry. Henry cared. Henry believed. Henry took her side.

The Quill would be no difficulty. She’d beaten Rumple before, if only temporarily, and this time, temporarily was all she needed. She had the Author already, and the Books were simply stacked up in the Sorcerer’s mansion, open for the taking. All she needed was to figure out how to release the Author from the page and how to get the ink.

The ink would be a problem.

Despite Henry’s optimism, Regina knew that magic had a price. If Miss Swan’s heart had to be darkened to undo the damage she had done, wasn’t that only fair? Regina had been pushed into darkness to fulfill other people’s desires, why should the Savior be different? And this hardly required that Emma become a new Evil Queen, she only had to be something other than the hero of the tale. As far as Regina was concerned, that was already the case; it shouldn’t take much.

Henry had gone (with a sound scolding for leaving school), and Regina glanced at one of her mirrors. She’d been toying with the idea of killing Marion. She knew Henry would not approve, but it wasn’t as if the woman was meant to be here anyway. But now she didn’t have to; the Author could simply write her out. Give her a new lover perhaps - it didn’t have to be an unpleasant fate.

And so it came back to the ink. _How do you turn a Savior dark?_ Regina picked up the mirror and looked in on Miss Swan. Or tried to. She could see nothing in the mirror; that meant that Emma had to be behind blood wards. _The loft or Rumple’s shop?_ She could see nothing of Rumple either, and imagined that they were having a cozy little pow-wow. Really, if Emma was going to be so friendly with the Dark One, she had to expect to absorb a little darkness herself.

Feeling impatient, Regina began to pace, then realized that she was ravenously hungry. And no wonder; she’d had little but booze and pretzels for a day and a half. Deciding that a good meal would help pass the time until the Savor could be seen again, she took the mirror with her into the kitchen. The ever-present bowl of red apples was on the kitchen table, and Regina decided to treat herself; she was suddenly craving an apple turnover.

XxXxXxX

“Papa, is it all right if I go over to the library this afternoon to see August?” Bae asked. Papa was clearly still rattled by the message from Malcolm, and combined with his evasive answer to Anna’s question about Ingrid, Bae knew he didn’t have time to waste. _Whatever Emma’s hiding, it’s the key to this._

Papa looked at him worriedly, but Belle’s gaze was more calculating; she knew something was up. “What brought this on?” Papa asked.

“He’s my friend. I haven’t had any time to hang out with anyone since… you know.”

Papa looked down, and his left hand curled up nervously. “I don’t want to keep you from your friends, but I don’t want you anywhere without the protection of someone with magic until Ingrid is captured. Can you wait until tomorrow? You can visit before Nova leaves for the animal shelter,” he said.

That wasn’t unreasonable. It was more than fair, in fact, when Bae knew how hard it was for his father to let him go so soon after Zelena. So, even though it would complicate his plan, Bae smiled and said, “All right.”

Papa put an arm around Bae’s shoulders and kissed his temple. He hadn’t done that in a long, long time. Bae knew he was scared. He didn’t like for Bae or Belle to be out of his sight now. He wouldn’t eat and Bae doubted that he was sleeping. Despite how hard he was trying, he was fragile, and neither Malcolm nor Ingrid would hesitate to target that weakness. 

Bae needed help to help him. He needed the Savior.

XxXxXxX

“Are you certain you’re all right, Bae?” Rumplestiltskin asked as they reached the house. His boy had been quiet and watchful all day, and Rumplestiltskin’s parental instinct told him that he had lied about his reasons for wanting to visit the puppet.

_He knows. He will leave you._

Bae smiled weakly. “I’m fine. What do you want to watch tonight?”

They watched at least one movie a night, now. There was nothing else Rumplestiltskin wanted to do. It helped drown out the voices and allowed him to do nothing at all but share the sofa with Belle while Bae sat nearby on the easy chair. “Whatever you like,” Rumplestiltskin answered.

“I don’t care, either. Belle?”

She looked between them, concerned. She, too, knew something was amiss. “Perhaps something different?” she suggested. “Monopoly? After dinner, of course.”

Rumplestiltskin smirked at her. “You want to play a game of financial conquest against the Dark One, my dear? Are you certain that’s wise?”

“I’m not afraid of the Dark One,” she teased. And then she caressed his jaw in a way that made him think of Zelena. Involuntarily, he jerked away.

“Rumple?” she asked, reaching out for him, worried.

“I’m fine,” he lied. Again. _You’re nothing. Liar. Monster. Weak. Take what you want! The gods decree it. TAKE IT!_

Her eyes flicked to Bae, and Rumplestiltskin knew that if he had not been present, she would have pressed him. As it was, she only said, “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Another lie, and they all knew it. Bae’s expression said that much. “What would you like for dinner?” Rumplestiltskin asked, trying to divert the subject. Food, of course, was also a sensitive matter.

“What do you feel like eating?” Belle asked him, attempting to prod him without nagging. He appreciated the effort, but it didn’t work. His magic was perfectly happy to keep him alive without the need for mortal requirements, and Zelena’s mockeries of intimate, family meals echoed around him every time he sat down to the table. Cooking was less trouble (provided he stayed away form certain foods), probably because she’d never had him do that. But the act of eating… everything associated with it only turned his stomach.

“I have no preference,” he answered, not wanting to lie, but unable to explain the truth. She understood anyway.

“Tea?” she asked hopefully. It seemed to be the only thing he could get down with any regularity. He didn’t know why.

Yes, he did. Tea made him think of Belle. He smiled. “Why not? What pairs with tea?”

“Chinese food,” Bae offered. They both looked at him. He shrugged. “August told me.”

“I’m not sure I am familiar with any Chinese recipes,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“That’s no problem; we can find some on the Internet!” Belle said, getting excited. “Bae, get out your laptop.”

It was… diverting. He did end up having make a quick ‘poof’ down to the grocery store for soy sauce, rice, and snow peas, but the recipes were not terribly difficult, and when they did finally sit down, Belle was grinning as if they’d had some grand adventure. He conjured three sets of chopsticks, and she laughed, delighted.

“So we can eat it properly?”

“Precisely,” he said. It took him a moment to realize that he was smiling.

“Uh, how?” Bae asked, sitting down and picking one of them up.

“Like this,” Belle said, showing him how to hold them.

“You’re just full of hidden talents, my dear,” Rumplestiltskin marveled.

“The people of Mulan’s village eat with these; she showed me how.”

“Ah.” He picked up his own pair properly, having also visited that corner of the Enchanted Forest on occasion. It was still a struggle to consume any of the meal, but the flavors (and implements) were exotic enough not to remind him of any particular interaction with Zelena. He also managed two cups of tea, and Belle seemed, if not happy, at least encouraged by that. 

Bae declared the meal a success and insisted on saving the leftovers. Once the dishes were done, Belle repeated her suggestion of a board game. Just happy to see her smile, Rumplestiltskin agreed. It was going fine until he rolled a bad move. He felt a spike of competitiveness, and his curse started speaking up. 

_Are you really going to let them beat you? How pathetic are you?_

On the next turn, he rolled badly again, landing on the ‘go to jail’ square. He grit his teeth and picked up his tiny thimble, accidentally making eye contact with Belle. The dismayed look on her face made him look away. Really? he thought, slapping the thimble down on the cartoonish drawing of iron bars. _Does she think me that fragile?_

_You’re weak. She knows it._ Not wanting to meet her eyes, he handed her the dice. She reluctantly took them. He had a sudden urge to alter her throw so she would land on the same square. Without thinking, he almost did it, and his curse cackled. He stopped.

_This is mad. You’re an endless well of dark magic, and you want to me to fix a board game? How petty are you?_

It said nothing. He’d never considered exactly what the voices of the curse were before. For years, centuries, even, he’d thought they were his own thoughts, amplified by magic. But its desires had clearly become contrary to his own, and now it was… human enough to delight in cheating at Monopoly?

It remained silent, as if it knew he was figuring something out. He played the rest of the game half-distracted (but did still win), waiting for it to speak. It didn’t.

XxXxXxX

Malcolm was bored. Ingrid’s ice palace was impressive enough, but it was stark and cold, and the lady herself was constantly preoccupied. She’d made it clear that she had no interest in diversion, and she’d responded to his request for some ale or wine with only a glare.

“What is so fascinating about that scroll?” he asked her. She’d consulted it a couple of times already. If it was a spell, he wished she’d just get on with it. It was magical; even with his powers gone, he could see that.

She ignored him. He sidled up to her. “Come now, lassie. There’s no need to be so cold.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and raised her eyebrow imperiously. She still did not say a word. _Bloody royals._

“You know, you might be more grateful-”

“I’m the one that broke you out of prison,” she interrupted, “If either of us should be grateful, it’s you.”

He flashed her a charming smile. “I am. Truly. But think of how much more we could do together.”

“Is that a proposition?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“There are many ways we could entertain ourselves…”

She looked at him like dung on her curiously bare feet. “Allow me to be clear. You will not touch me. You will not touch my sisters. I will be casting the Curse of Shattered Sight; if you dare lay a hand on any of us, I will drop you in the middle of town at its height. Exactly how many of them want to kill you now? Under my curse, they will tear you apart like wolves.”

Her curse, now that was diverting. “There’s no curse without the dagger. You know as well as I do that Rumple will not be affected, and he will end you to end it.”

“And what are you doing about that? Promises were made.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, lassie. I’ve already started-”

“With that doll,” she said flatly.

“Aye, that’s the start. By the end, he’ll be so tied up in knots that he’ll give up the dagger willingly. But I know Rumple, and you don’t; without me, there is no dagger. Without the dagger, there is no curse. Now what is this?” He reached for the scroll, but she snatched it away, raising her hand and knocking him back half a dozen steps with a blast of biting, freezing wind.

“It’s none of your business,” she said primly, rolling it up and tucking it under her arm. “Don’t forget that I don’t have to kill you to make you very, very uncomfortable.”

He watched her shrewdly. Ingrid was entirely different to Zelena. It had not taken him much time at all to learn that such a threat from Zelena’s mouth would surely have been carried out swiftly, with relish, and perhaps regardless of whether he had conceded to her demand or not. But Ingrid had done little more than pelt him with air and seemed to take little pleasure in the suffering of others. Even her execution of Zelena had been undertaken as if it were a duty rather than a joy. She didn’t have the stomach for torture. He grinned disarmingly. “Now there’s no need for that. I was merely curious. So long in that urn, surely you’re not opposed to some friendly conversation? I had little as Zelena’s prisoner, myself.”

That actually seemed to catch her off guard. She stared at him, still gripping the scroll like a precious thing. But her tone was suspicious as she asked, “You’re lonely?”

He shrugged and smiled. He’d never really understood this thing people called ‘loneliness’. People were a diversion, yes. It was little fun to play alone, even with limitless power; that was the other reason he had recruited the Lost Boys. Felix’s loyalty had been unexpected and appreciated, certainly, and while he could feel anger at Zelena for killing him, he’d never ‘missed’ him the way other people seemed to miss the dead. He just didn’t see the point. But Ingrid did not know that. “Zelena killed my most loyal friend, and my other boys are scattered to the winds…”

“Except your son,” she said. “What’s stopping you from betraying me for him?”

Malcolm laughed. “Rumple wasn’t one of my boys. I didn’t choose him. The family you choose is different from the family thrust upon you; you understand that, don’t you lassie?”

“But he was your child,” she said flatly.

“No longer. He has more lines on his face that I do, now.” She was unconvinced, so he continued, “He took my power and imprisoned me. Told that little moppet of his that I’m a monster. That sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

Her smile was a tiny, fragile, broken thing. “And we both know he’s the true monster.”

“That we do.”

She looked down at the scroll. “Don’t worry; we’re not alone in this.”

“Oh?”

“The Sorcerer’s Apprentice gave me this. It tells me how my plan will succeed.”

“The Sorcerer…” That was a surprise. For as long as he had been Pan, Malcolm had not known of a single instance where the Sorcerer had involved himself in events personally. “May I see it?”

“No,” she said, “But if you have any further suggestions for distracting your son, I could use them.”

“Distracting him from what?”

She smiled wickedly. “Emma and Elsa need to see what will happen when the people of this town come to fear their power.”

“So you’re going to make them fear it,” he said knowingly.

“Precisely.”


	7. Freeze, Thaw

When Rumplestiltskin approach the shop the next morning, there was another straw doll waiting outside. It looked the same. Exactly the same. How the hell could Malcolm remember every detail of the thing now that he was no longer Pan? Maybe that was the message. The threat. _He knows your every weakness. He will own you. He will destroy you._

He startled badly when Belle put a hand on his shoulder. She pulled her hand back, assuring him, “It’s all right, Rumple, it’s just me.”

Humiliated, he looked away, crouching down to examine the doll. He reached out with his senses, wondering if he could even trust them anymore. “It’s not magical,” he said. “I know it’s not.” He forced himself to pick it up. _Pathetic coward._

“What does it mean?” she asked. “It’s just like the doll from yesterday; don’t tell me that doesn’t mean something.”

“It does, but I don’t…” What did it mean? That he remembered? How could he remember every detail of his son’s only toy? Malcolm didn’t care and never had. Rumplestiltskin closed his fist, crushing it to dust and letting it spill from his fingers. _WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?_

His curse laughed. _Kill him. He taunts you. He abandoned you._

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “Papa?” Bae asked.

“I don’t know what it means,” he said. “We should get inside.” He opened the door and gestured them through. He looked over his shoulder before following them in.

Belle held out her hands to take his coat. “I’m fine,” he insisted, stepping forward to carry it into the back room himself.

“You’re not fine,” she said. “Something about that doll has you rattled. I saw your face yesterday; you recognized it immediately. When have you seen it before?”

He didn’t want to discuss this with her (or anyone), but they were in danger now because of their association with him. They deserved to know. “It… I had one like it as a child. Malcolm… is the only person alive who could know that. That is how I know it is from him.”

“OK,” Belle said, “I understand. That was Malcolm telling you he was here, that he got this close.”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything else? Why the doll and not something else that only Malcolm would know?”

“There wasn’t much else. Not that would be easily recognizable anyway.”

“You keep destroying them. Why?”

“I feel no magic within them, but...” But he was losing faith in his curse and his own mind. Could he have missed something? Or maybe that was the point; to leave him second-guessing himself. That was Malcolm’s usual MO. “But… if you find any more of them, you must not touch them. And…” a possibility suddenly occurred to him. “You must never bring them behind the wards.”

“Why not?”

“Because names have power. The original, the one I had a child… I named it Peter Pan.”

“After him?”

“No. He took the name from the doll. I don’t know why; perhaps it was all he could think of at the time.” _Liar. He was gloating. He took everything from you, even your imaginary hero. You were less than nothing to him. You’re nothing now._

“So it’s an avatar for him,” Belle said, catching on, “Inviting the doll into the wards might make it possible for him to cross.”

“Yes.” And it fit; it fit perfectly. _Ha! Not this time, Papa._

“Then we need to tell Emma,” Bae said. “If she brings one behind her wards, he might get his hands on the Book.”

He was right, although the thought of sharing this information with the Miss Swan made him sick. He didn’t want _anyone_ to know, and Miss Swan would detect any attempt he made to be evasive with the details. She would try to be sympathetic. Rumplestiltskin did not want sympathy from the Savior. “Yes,” Belle agreed. “I will call her.”

“You?” Rumplestiltskin asked, confused.

She took his hand. “You’ve been working non-stop since…” she couldn’t even say it. “You haven’t even had a chance to rest. You’re exhausted and too close to this. I think Malcolm is trying to play games with your head, trying to provoke you into making a mistake. Do you think I’m wrong?”

“No,” he said stubbornly, “But I will not allow how him to-”

His phone rang. They all stared at it. His phone ringing was never a good sign. He pulled it out, checking the number. He answered immediately. “Miss Swan?”

“We’ve got a magical situation at the public elementary school, Gold, I could really use the back-up.”

“Ingrid?”

“We’ve got nine-foot ice monsters, so I’d say that’s a safe bet.”

“I’ll be right there.” She hung up. “I need to go.”

“We can help,” Belle said immediately.

“Emma asked for magic,” and that was all the warning he gave before vanishing. They could scold him for it later. He needed a distraction and to work off his temper; Ingrid’s ice monsters would do.

“Watch out!” Elsa shouted.

XxXxXxX

Elsa and Anna had been on their way to work when the pleasantly cool, sunny day had suddenly exploded with ice magic. 

Their usual route took them past the elementary school just as the kids were arriving, and Anna loved to point out the boys and girls in their brightly colored coats and hats. She’d just begun waving at a little girl named Grace who frequented the library when two, then three, then four ice creatures had sprung up from the snow-dusted ground.

The kids began screaming. “Elsa!” Anna shouted. “It’s Ingrid!”

Elsa knew that. She also knew that she’d never fought her aunt before, and her control over her powers was tenuous. But Emma and Regina weren’t here, and she could not let Ingrid hurt these children. She extended her hands, and shackles of ice sprang from the ground, grabbing for the legs of the creatures.

She managed to catch three of them, but the forth reformed into a giant bird and took to the air. Not sure that she could best her aunt with ice, she moved to fire. But her turquoise flames only knocked the creature to the side, sending it tumbling into one of the school busses. It shattered some of the windows, showing glass down as the children screamed and continued to flee. Robin must have been walking his little boy to school because Elsa saw him duck out from behind a different bus and fire arrows at the enormous bird. All his shots landed, but they did not even slow the creature down.

“Call Emma!” Elsa ordered Anna. One by one, the ice creatures started breaking free of their shackles, and Elsa scrambled to replace them. Trying his arrows again and finding them useless, Robin instead began to usher the children away from the beasts.

Elsa heard Anna describing the monsters to Emma, but she had no time to waste. The bird had taken to the air again, and Elsa tried something desperate; she attempted to deconstruct it.

It shrieked, shedding snow onto the crowd below. The noise of the children screaming and crying was deafening. The bird struggled in Elsa’s grip, and once more, the land monsters began to break free. Out of time and enraged that Ingrid would dare put children in danger, Elsa did something desperate, changing the direction of her magic and flooding the bird with her own power and causing it to explode. 

But the land creatures had broken free of her spells, and they charged towards the kids. _NO!_

Rumplestiltskin suddenly appeared in front of them. “Watch out!” Elsa shouted.

He spun unnaturally fast, catching all three beasts in a web of golden light. Blood pumping in her ears, Elsa flooded each one with power. They popped like Christmas crackers, showering Rumplestiltskin with snow. 

Elsa staggered, and Anna caught her. “Elsa, that was amazing!”

“The children?” Elsa asked, “Are any of them hurt?” The screams had died down, but she could hear crying.

“Let’s go see. You know healing magic; it’s going to be all right. And Rumplestiltskin is here. He’ll help! I actually think he really likes kids, it’s just people don’t like for him to be around their kids, which is actually really sad, although I can understand it if they don’t know him personally and that he’s a good guy now…”

“I’d hardly say good,” Rumplestiltskin said, brushing snow off his coat. “But I will help them if I can.”

“Why would Ingrid want to harm children?” Elsa cried. “To punish us? Should we have gone with her?”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin said. “I believe this was what the people of this world call an act of terrorism; she is trying to turn the town against magic. Your magic.”

The teachers and other adults had began to round up the children, looking for injuries. Elsa saw a group gathered around a little girl lying on the ground, and she ran to help, Anna following right behind.

_Damn you, Ingrid. Damn you for this._

XxXxXxX

By the time Emma got there, the monsters were gone, and Gold and Elsa were already working on healing the kids who had been injured in the stampede. It seemed to be mostly bumps and bruises, and Emma was grateful that it wasn’t worse.

But as she looked around for the principal, Emma heard a concerned child call, “Mama?”

Emma turned. Marion was walking her way, leaning against Robin, looking dazed and pale.

“I think I need help,” she said, clutching at her chest.

“Gold!” Emma shouted.

XxXxXxX

When she’d assumed the form of Marion, Zelena had been hoping that Regina would put up more of a fight than simply withdrawing to her home to sulk, but she could not deny that it was nice to finally _win_ for once.

In truth, Zelena did not know how she had survived Ingrid’s assassination attempt. She had truly thought her magic lost, as Glinda had warned her it would be, but when Ingrid had stabbed her, it had come back in a rush to keep her spirit on the mortal plane. She’d followed The Savior and the pirate through the time portal, elated to enact her plan, only to find that they had arrived thirty years too late.

But the magic in that land had restored her physical form, even including the six-leaved clover in her pocket, and then, by rescuing Marion, the Savior had given Zelena the perfect means to travel back with them. And not just to travel back, but to utterly ruin Regina’s happy ending! It was nearly as good as her original plan. She’d been unable to take Regina’s life, but her fated True Love was a fair consolation prize. She even liked the little boy.

Every day, Robin walked Roland to and from school. The large, grim looking building abutted the woods in which the Merry Men camped, and it was a pleasant enough walk - at least when the morning wind wasn’t quite so cold (Zelena was going to have to speak to Robin about accommodations for the winter - for Roland’s benefit, of course). These daily walks were the perfect time to ingratiate herself within their little family, and Zelena walked with them, smiling and cooing in all the right places and dearly hoping that Regina was watching them though her mirror and choking on it.

As they reached the line of buses in front of the school, Zelena suddenly felt magic in the air. Dark and cold - definitely Ingrid’s. A roar, then two, followed by more, and Zelena grabbed for the little boy just as four ice giants appeared behind the buses. “Roland! This way!”

Robin drew his bow. “Get him out of here!” he shouted.

But the crowd of fleeing children was too thick. Some of them were almost youths, and as they poured off the busses, Zelena was instead forced to shelter against one of the vehicles.

_Damn this crowd!_ Zelena could not use any magic at all without exposing herself, and she’d come too close to ruining Regina’s happiness to throw away it away now. _Where is the Savior? She’s supposed to save us!_

An enormous ice bird crashed into one of the buses, shattering windows and raining broken glass down on Zelena and the children. The beast launched itself back into the air, taking multiple arrows to the chest without even slowing down. _It’s a golem made from ice you idiot! Arrows won’t help!_

Zelena felt a burst of Elsa’s magic, and the ice bird shrieked, shedding snow like blood. Then it exploded entirely, showering them all with a cloud of ice crystals so cold they burned, unnatural and steeped in magic. Coughing and gasping, Zelena inhaled them, and the magic flowed inside her. She shivered.

_No! NO!_

_I did not come all this way just to die now!_

Then Rumple arrived, the unmistakable surge of his power bringing order to the chaos. He trapped the three remaining golems, and they exploded as the first one had. The adults that had cowered and run for cover immediately began trying to direct the crowd of children and help those that had been injured. _Come help me, you fools!_

Robin found them. “Are you all right?” 

He looked at the boy first, then her, and that burned. Even when she was not herself, Zelena was never chosen first. But she kept up the facade of Marion. Ingrid had only planted a seed; she had some time. If Robin had come to love her - truly love her - he would be able to stop the ice in her heart. And if he had not, her best chance would be Rumple, and he would never help her if he knew who she was. “I feel… strange,” she said. 

“Strange how?”

“Cold. When the beast exploded, I breathed in some of the mist. I think there was magic in it.”

Robin was instantly solicitous. “Sit down here; I will fetch the Dark One.”

Zelena barely remembered to act shocked by that suggestion. “The Dark One? Would he help us?”

“He has reformed, as I told you. He will help.”

“Take me with you then,” she said, reaching out for him.

He slung her arm over his shoulder as if she were just one of his men, and Zelena bit her tongue. She saw a flash of read leather and blonde hair, and the Savior came running into view. _Where were you? Some kind of Savior you are!_

“Mama?” Roland asked, tugging on her skirts. 

The Savior looked their way. “I think I need help,” Zelena said, putting a hand to her chest.

“Gold!” the Savior shouted.

He was attending some little urchin who was sniveling over something inconsequential. “A moment, Miss Swan,” he said, not looking up. 

“Can you walk?” the Savior asked, and Zelena nodded. “This way.”

“There,” Rumple said to the child, patting her leg, “Good as new.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed.

“You’re welcome.” His smile was genuine, and Zelena felt a familiar surge of jealously. _If you think I’m done with you, Rumple, you are quite mistaken._

“Dark One,” Robin said, “My wife needs your help.”

Rumple stood up in a single, smooth motion, balancing lightly on his cane. To feed the illusion, Zelena looked away. “Dark One,” she said demurely.

“What seems to be the trouble?” he asked with far less warmth than he’d offered the little girl.

“I feel cold,” she explained.

“She inhaled some of the mist when the creatures exploded,” Robin added. “What could that have done to her?”

“We shall see,” Rumple said, frowning. He reached out with his free hand. She covered her heart, and he sighed. “If you want to know what she did, I’m afraid you going to have to let me closer than that. Or Elsa can do it, but she is far less experienced than I. And busy besides.”

“It’s all right, Marion” Robin said. “He spared both our lives once already. Please, let him help; I cannot lose you again.”

Encouraged by that, Zelena smiled at him. “All right.”

Rumple reached out again, holding his hand flat about an inch from her breastbone. The familiar tingle of his magic was exciting. After a moment, he took it away, his expression grim. “It is serious.”

“How serious?” Robin asked.

“Ingrid’s ice magic has touched your heart. Soon, it will begin to freeze, eventually killing you.”

“What?” Elsa said from behind him. _It’s rude to eavesdrop, dear._

Rumple repeated himself, explaining further, “Apparently, she was touched by it when the creatures were destroyed.”

“Can you help her?” the snow witch whined. _He can if you will let him get one with it!_

“Of course he can,” Robin insisted. “What do you need me to do?” he asked Rumple.

“I know that!” Anna volunteered joyfully. “You need an act of True Love! But that’s no problem for you, two right? I mean, I know it’s scary almost having your heart frozen and stuff - believe me, I know - but once it’s over, you feel great!”

Zelena didn’t doubt it. She wanted it for herself. Badly. Robin turned her to face him, both of his hands now at her waist. Zelena held her breath in anticipation. _This_ was how her story was supposed to go. She was meant to be loved and cherished by a handsome hero. By _Regina’s_ handsome hero.

He kissed her.

Nothing happened.

In her mind, Zelena raged, but she was not about to surrender her life. She looked at Rumple hopefully while Robin asked, “Did… did it work?”

XxXxXxX

“No,” Gold said simply.

Emma watched as Marion cast her eyes downward and said, “You love another.” Emma wondered what Henry’s happy endings would say about something like this.

“I… I’m sorry, Marion,” Robin stammered. He looked at Gold. “Can you save her? Tell me you can save her!”

“What about Roland?” Emma suggested. Even if Robin had fallen out of love, that didn’t change the bond between mother and child. 

“He may be too young,” Gold warned, “And with too few memories of her.”

“You have to _try,_ ” Anna insisted. Gold nodded slightly.

“Yes. Roland,” Robin said, turning to his little boy, “Can you kiss Mama on the cheek?”

“Why?” he asked, getting shy under the scrutiny. 

“Because she’s sick and you… it might help her if you do that.” Robin was clearly heartbroken that his kiss hadn’t worked. Emma wondered what Regina would think of it.

“OK,” Roland said. Marion knelt down in front of him.

But it didn’t work either. Emma felt her gut sink. She knew that True Love’s Kisses had failed before due to barriers and memory loss, but never because the love just wasn’t “true” enough. A little boy was going to lose his mother for the second time because magic had decided she wasn’t worth saving. That was bullshit. “Gold, you’ve got to be able to do something. Do you have any of that potion left?”

“Potion?” Marion asked hopefully.

“Bottled True Love. And yes, I do, but there must be a price.”

“Gold…”

“You may not be aware of this Miss Swan, but I do not actually make the rules, and can bend them only so much. Magic such as that is incredibly powerful and rare. It demands a price. The hair from the puppet and his rescue of Belle, fairy dust for the dwarf; there _must_ be a price.”

“I have no magic offer you,” Robin begged. “Please.”

“How about a favor?” Emma asked. “You’ve taken that as payment before.”

Gold inclined his head. “One from each of them. Yes, that will do.”

“Yes!” Robin said. “I can perform a task for you. What do you want me to do?” 

“That’s just it; I don’t know yet. I may not even collect at all.” He produced the vial in his hand like a street magician would. “But it is a binding magical contract. If you refuse the request I make of you, the magic will begin to fail. But I wouldn’t worry; I do have other deals in place that prevent me from requesting anything too vile.” He said that last bit with a tease of a taunting grin, and just for a moment, Emma could see the imp she’d met behind the pawnbroker she knew. 

Undisturbed, Robin resolutely said, “I agree.” 

“And the lady?”

Marion was still kneeling on the ground, clutching at the collar of her peasant dress (she apparently wasn’t down with the fashion of twenty-first century America, even if Emma thought she’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable in those woods with a good pair if jeans and an insulated, winter coat). She pushed herself to her feet, Robin jumping to help her. “I… I accept,” she said.

Emma didn’t think Gold could help that little smile of satisfaction at a deal made. He hadn’t been himself since he’d been freed from Zelena; he’d been diminished and jumpy. Maybe it was messed up - OK, it was really messed up - but Emma could not help but be glad to see that the conniving dealmaker (imp and landlord) was still in there somewhere. 

He conjured another bottle, this one smaller. He tipped some of the potion into it and handed it to Marion. “Bottom’s up,” he said.

She actually smirked, and she made eye contact with Gold in a way that somehow made him uncomfortable. “To my continued health,” she said, downing it. She gasped, smiling as she looked at the empty bottle. “You were right,” she said to Anna, “It does feel great.”

Robin grinned, and Roland shouted, “Yay!” Marion laughed and hugged him.

XxXxXxX

Seeing that Marion was out of danger, Elsa returned to caring for the children; Rumplestiltskin did the same. Anna helped them while Emma made phone calls and spoke to the Principal of the school.

_This was my fault._

Robin had found Marion a bench to rest on. They were so very fortunate that Rumplestiltskin had possessed the means to stop Ingrid’s magic. Marion could have died otherwise, all because Elsa had not thought about what would happen when she destroyed the ice creatures.

And she was not the only person realizing this. “Are you a witch?” one little boy asked her fearfully.

“Well, yes, technically, but not all witches are bad!” Anna said. “Elsa is my sister, and she is a good witch.”

“She killed the monsters,” he said, sullenly.

“They weren’t alive,” Elsa said, “Not really.”

“But you _killed_ them.”

“I…”

“She _got rid_ of them,” Anna said. “And she can heal the cut on her arm. Don’t you want her to do that?”

“No,” he said, pulling his arm away.

“But doesn’t it hurt?”

“No,” he insisted, though that clearly wasn’t true.

“Let me,” A teacher said. She was carrying a box with a red cross on the front. “It’s not serious; I can bandage him up.”

“But-” Ann objected.

“It’s OK, Anna,” Elsa said. “I’m not going to force him.”

She moved on. When all the children (and the few adults who had been injured) had been seen to, they, Robin, and Marion followed Emma and Rumplestiltskin back to the Sheriff’s Station. David, Mary Margaret, Belle, and Baelfire were waiting there. Belle rushed over to her love, asking if he was all right. He assured her that he was, and Regina arrived just after that, exchanging a very significant look with Robin. 

“What is she doing here?” Marion asked.

“There was an attack,” she said. “I may not be mayor anymore, but this is still my town. Of course, the good Sheriff didn’t see fit to let me know…”

“You asked not to be contacted. I believe your words to August were ‘I’m done’,” Emma said.

Regina sighed, putting her hand on her hips. “Of course he would have told you everything about that night.”

“Actually he didn’t. But your willingness - or not - to help us is relevant. Did you change you mind?”

“I don’t want her here,” Marion said. She looked at her husband. “How could you? You know what she did - what she was going to do to me. And the kiss…”

“Marion, she’s changed,” he insisted.

“No one changes that much.”

He took her hand. “I did. You brought that out in me.” Regina’s jaw clenched and she looked away, but Marion was only more upset.

“You’re not a murderer,” she insisted.

“Well, using that argument, dearie, I shouldn’t be here,” Rumplestiltskin said.

Emma looked at him askance. “Are you feeling all right, Rumple?” Regina asked, a similar expression on her face, “That almost sounded like you were defending me.”

“A factual statement, nothing more. I really could not care less for your little soap opera. I’d like to get back to the matter at hand, if we could.”

“Right,” Emma said, “The attack. What was Ingrid trying to accomplish?”

“She was trying to hurt the kids,” Anna said.

“No,” Rumplestiltskin said. “She wasn’t. She could have far more damage than that, as you well know. And while several children were exposed when her creatures exploded, only Marion’s heart was affected. Why?”

“I thought… was she trying to make me lose control and hurt someone?” Elsa asked. “I thought I had. Marion, I am so sorry… but none of the kids… You said she was trying to make people fear us.”

“Yes,” he said, “You did not lose control, and it was not your magic that touched her heart. As I said earlier, I believe it’s likely that she is attempting to convince the populace to fear you - perhaps by convincing them that you lost control and hurt someone.” Elsa sighed in relief.

“She’s trying to make everyone fear us,” Emma said darkly. “Because she knows we would not believe it if we knew they were only doing it because of her spell.” 

“That would be my inference. Also, if she can create enough mistrust and hate among the populace and infuse those emotions into a mirror, she could use them to provide power to the spell. What did you find on your video camera?” he asked Emma.

“She was there,” She said grimly. “She did foster me. But there was nothing weird. Other than her being there, I mean.”

“So she was awake. That means she did have far more time to work on the mirror than we initially surmised.”

“Damn,” Emma said.

“Indeed.”

“But if that is her plan,” Regina said, “Why Marion? Why not a child? There would have been a greater outcry.”

“We never would have forgiven that,” Elsa said. “She has to know that.”

“Joke’s on her, then,” Emma said, “We’re not forgiving this either.”

“We need to release public statements,” Mary Margaret said, “Explaining about the attack on the school. Even none of them were seriously hurt, people will be worried about their children.”

“Good,” Emma said. “You and David do that while we try to track Ingrid down. This has to end.”

“What about the Author?” Regina asked.

“What about him?” Emma responded suspiciously.

“Could she be after him?”

Rumplestiltskin blinked. “Quite possibly. But there seems to be no connection between this attack and that possibility. She does have direct motive to undermine the public trust in Emma and Elsa’s magic.”

“It could be a misdirection.”

“Yes,” Belle said fervently, looking at Gold. “Rumple, the doll.”

“What doll?” Emma asked.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, shaky and suddenly nervous. “Twice now, an avatar of Malcolm has been left in front of my shop. I did not realize the significance at first, but just before the attack, I realized that they may well be an attempt to sneak him past my wards.”

“Or yours,” Bae said to Emma. “It’s a small, straw doll about this big,” he gestured with his hands, “And it has a blue vest. If you find one, don’t bring it behind your wards.”

“OK, this can’t all be coincidence,” Emma said.

“I agree,” Gold said tightly. “Where is the Book now?”

“Henry has it.” Emma grabbed her jacket, “He’s at school. If she’s after him…”

Gold also moved to grab his coat, but as he passed by Marion, she grabbed him by the wrist. He yanked his hand away, startled. “Don’t touch me, if you please.”

“Sorry,” Marion said casually, a cheerful smile on her face. “I just wanted to thank you for saving me.”

He stared at her a moment before flatly answering, “You’re welcome.”

“Let’s go!” Anna said.

“Yes,” Elsa agreed. They could not let Ingrid hurt anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to those who would have preferred that Zelena remain dead. I am among your number. Unfortunately, the powers that be need her. Fortunately, they do not need the baby, so there will be no baby.


	8. Trust

“I think this means we should let him out,” Henry said. 

Emma, Gold, Regina, Elsa, and Anna had made the trip to his school (he was going to the public middle school now, seeing as Mother Superior still ran his old private one), and they were all now crowded together in a too-small conference room. After asking about the attack on the Elementary school, the principal had been happy to accommodate them - and then leave as quickly as possible, shooting Gold and Regina suspicious glances. 

Emma sighed. “Henry, we already talked about this. The Council voted.”

“But we didn’t know that Ingrid was after him. If she lets him out, he’ll side with her and not us.” 

“Kid, we don’t know if she’s after him; it’s just a possibility.”

“You should put it to another vote, so everyone can participate this time.”

“Everyone did. Everyone except…” Emma looked back at Regina then back to Henry. “You told her about the Author, didn’t you? That’s why you skipped school to talk to her yesterday. Henry!”

“She has a right to know!”

“She said she wanted nothing to do with the Council or the fight against Ingrid. And you know what August said; we should not be asking the Author to change things!”

“Why not? He’s the one who wrote the Book in the first place, the one where Mom is a villain!”

“The Author did not make Regina a villain, Henry,” Gold said. “He merely recorded what occurred. Regina chose to embrace the mantle of Evil Queen-”

“You don’t know that,” Regina snapped. “The puppet said that he didn’t know what the Author had changed. And you’re the one that made me into-” She looked at Henry and bit off her tirade. Gold turned to face her, bored impatience on his face.

“No credit to your mother?”

“Don’t-”

“Or Reul Ghorm? Accept it, dearie, you made the choices you made. I told you before; the curse must be cast of the caster’s free will. Whatever the Author did or did not do, no one forced you to do that. Rewriting the story to undo that is no different than Zelena’s time portal. I seem to recall a declaration that you had changed; feel free to begin proving it.”

“Don’t you, of all people, dare to lecture me-”

“HEY!” Anna shouted. “STOP YELLING!” They both looked at her. Gold insolently inclined his head in agreement, but Regina just grit her teeth.

“I just wanted Mom to get her happy ending,” Henry said sadly.

Emma huffed. “I know, Henry. But this wasn’t the way to do it. You tried going behind our backs, and this is just too dangerous.”

“And bringing a woman back from the past was not dangerous?” Regina demanded.

“I was saving her life, not trying to get a ‘happy ending’ for myself!”

“Yes,” Regina accused, “Yes, you were. You saved her to make yourself feel better, because you didn’t think you could live with leaving her behind. Tell me, what if that decision had killed someone else? What would you have done then?”

“It didn’t.”

“Do you know that?”

“Enough!” Gold barked. “The Author will not be released. But Ingrid may indeed be seeking him; I suggest we keep the Book in at shop-”

“No,” Regina said. “You have the Quill already; you are not getting the Author.”

Gold sighed, “Dearie, I have no intention to the free the Author-”

“And why should I believe that?”

“I’ll keep it,” Emma said, “Behind the blood wards on the loft. It probably isn’t a good idea to keep the Quill and the Book in the same place anyway.”

“You have the ink,” Regina said, “I should keep the Book in my vault.”

“After what you just tried to do? Not a chance.”

“I’ll take the Book,” Elsa said. “If you can show me how to place blood wards on our apartment,” she said to Gold. 

“An acceptable solution,” he said. “Although the spell is a bit more complicated if you mean to exclude blood relations.”

“Wait, that can be done?” Regina asked.

“Of course it can be done,” Gold said.

“None of my books… Mother,” Regina sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

“I imagine that wasn’t something she wanted you to know,” he agreed.

“So it can be done?” Elsa asked.

“Yes, of course. I don’t supposed you’re interested in a lesson as well, dearie?” Gold asked Regina, half mockingly.

“All my blood relations are dead, so it’s rather moot now, isn’t it?”

“As you wish.”

“I’ll take the Book in the meantime,” Emma said, making eye contact with Regina. “There’s no ink as long as I don’t go dark, and I don’t see that happening in the next couple of days, do you?”

“Fine,” Regina snapped, moving to leave. Henry gabbed her wrist.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Her face softened, which didn’t surprise Emma anymore, but was still infuriating. It was hard enough to keep giving Regina chances for Henry’s sake, but how could they trust her when she kept pulling crap like this? How could Emma trust Henry to be around her? “It’s not your fault, honey,” Regina said, glancing pointedly at Emma to make it clear exactly whose fault she thought it was.

“You don’t need the Author, Regina,” Anna said. “You can find your happy ending another way.”

“What way?” she demanded.

“Well, there was the kiss…”

“What kiss?”

“Well… Robin tried to Kiss Marion to cure her frozen heart and it didn’t… work.”

Regina just stared. Then she said, “Have a good day, Henry,” and vanished.

“‘Bye, Mom!” Henry said a heartbeat too late.

“Well, she could have said goodbye to us too,” Anna complained, “That was just rude.”

“Is Marion OK?” Henry asked.

“Gold fixed her up,” Emma said, “She’s fine.”

He grinned brilliantly. “Good. And Mom’s going to talk to Robin.” He seemed suddenly content, and Emma had the sinking feeling he was expecting a happy ending by dinner.

“I don’t know if that’s where she went, kid,” Emma said. “But it’s something she and Robin will have to figure out on their own. It’s time for you to get back to class.” She put out her hand, asking for the Book. He handed it off blithely. It wasn’t fair to Marion, but Emma suddenly hoped for Henry’s sake that Regina had gone to see Robin. 

Henry left, waving cheerfully. Emma tucked the Book under her arm. As they left the school, Regina’s accusation about her reasons for saving Marion rattled around in her brain. It was just another deflection, another excuse to make Regina into the victim. 

Wasn’t it?

XxXxXxX

After the attack on the school, Bae could tell it was it was difficult for his father to leave him at the library as promised - but a deal was a deal. After explaining everything to August and Nova, Papa had to leave to work with Elsa on her wards. Belle insisted on joining him. Bae would have too, but after today’s attack, his mission was just too urgent. Nova offered every assurance, and Bae promised to call for him if anything at all even seemed out of place.

Bae hugged him, and gods knew they were both scared, but this had to be done. Papa took Belle and left. Bae had to wait for his opportunity, but as soon as Nova went back into the stacks, he leaned over the Circulation desk and whispered urgently. “I need you to do something for me.” 

“What?” August asked.

“I need you to set up a meeting with Emma. Alone. And no one can know.”

August raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“She and my father are hiding something. I know you know what it is. I need to know too.”

He didn’t deny it, but he did ask, “Why?”

“Whenever my father keeps secrets, things go bad. You know that. And it’s tied up with this thing with Ingrid. Whatever this secret is, it’s dangerous.”

“How do you know that?” he asked sternly.

“I know my father knows more about Ingrid’s plans than he told Anna. Ingrid is obsessed with Emma. Emma’s blood is the ink for the Author. She’s at the center of all of this, and my father can’t talk about what he knows because Emma swore him to secrecy about this thing he’s helping her with. Now Ingrid attacks the school. We’re out of time. Can you get me some time alone with her or not?”

“You’re not going to just ask me what it is?”

“I figured if she made Papa promise, she made you promise too.”

He sighed. “She did. Yeah, I can get her alone, just her and me. The question is, can you get here? Will your dad allow it?”

“Emma has magic. If I tell him she’s here, he should let me come. You don’t… I’m not just being paranoid, am I? It’s not just that she’s trying to make everyone afraid of their magic, is it?”

He shook his head, uncharacteristically serious. “No. You’re not. There is more” Somehow, Bae did not find that encouraging.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin was tired. Down to his bones. Down to his soul. Once again, his family was in danger, old enemies had come to roost, and his curse would simply not shut up. He’d thrown himself into the lesson with Elsa, but every minute that ticked by, his curse taunted him about something terrible happening to Bae.

_Did you really think you would ever be able to keep him? There’s only one way you can protect him now. No one will care if you kill a witch that threatened children. Use it! Use the Hat on her!_

He was going mad. He’d never been a strong person, and sooner or later he was going to break completely.

Belle knew. Belle always knew. She stuck close to him as they retrieved Bae and returned to the shop. As soon as they were behind the wards and Rumplestiltskin could at least pretend to breathe again, she tugged on his arm and said. “Come sit down for a minute.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she said, not unkindly. 

“You’re not,” Bae agreed. “Papa, you look-”

“I’m not an invalid,” he growled, far more harshly than he meant. His curse laughed. _Damn you._ “I’m sorry, I…”

“You’re exhausted,” Belle said. “And you’ve been through more than anyone can possibly be expected to handle alone. Let me take us take care of you for a little while. Please?” Rumplestiltskin wondered if Bae had taught her that dewy-eyed expression. He’d used it more than once to get his way as a child, but then Belle probably had too. For a moment, Rumplestiltskin could imagine Maurice, helpless to resist those blue eyes. But Maurice had become a controlling tyrant of a father, and that led only to thoughts of Malcolm and Rumplestiltskin’s own failings. _You abandoned your son. Just. Like. Him._

“Yes, I… I should sit down.” _Weak. Worthless. You are nothing. Nothing without your power. You have the Hat; you can free yourself-_

He gripped the edge of the display case. _The Hat. The damn Hat! You want me to use it - WHY?_

Once again, his curse was suddenly silent. So many forces at work, so many enemies, and they were all trying to force his hand. To control him. _LEAVE ME ALONE!_

“Rumple?”

“I’m fine,” he said reflexively.

“Please don’t lie to me.”

“I’m…” He bit off the ‘not’. That would be a lie, an insultingly obvious one. She gave so much and asked so little; he could at least afford her enough respect not to insult her intelligence like that.

“You’re scared and for good reason. You’re trying to protect us. We understand all of that. But please, just come sit down. We can talk about this. Please.”

“How can you be so patient with me?” he blurted out, truly not understanding.

She placed his hand over his, where it still gripped the display case. He was quite certain that if he let go, his legs would collapse under him. “You were just as patent with me, when I got out of the hospital.”

“You weren’t-” _Broken. Weak. Thirty years as a prisoner, and she didn’t fall apart like this._

She stepped closer, laying her other hand on his arm. “I was terrified and confused, and you took such good care of me-”

“I yelled at you in a public street for something that was not your fault, and you forgave me without question. You were captured by Regina because I did not believe in you, and your father-”

“Stop! You are not responsible for what Regina and my father did! And you are not solely responsible for how things ended at the Dark Castle. I tried to change you without your knowledge or permission because I was so hung up on ‘saving’ you. I was so certain that I knew best that I treated you like a victim with no agency and called you a fool and a coward for not agreeing with me.”

“Belle, you’ve done nothing - _nothing_ \- to compare with what I’ve done…”

“It’s not a contest, Rumple. Love isn’t about keeping score. And I do love you. Please, come sit down.” She slid her arm under his and guided him to the back room. Bae followed them, silent with worry. _Can’t you at least keep yourself together in front of you son? Haven’t you put him through enough?_

Rumplestiltskin knew he needed to pull it together. A man would be strong. A man did not burden his family this way. But every time he tried to pull away, to hide his shame from them, Belle dragged it out anyway. _She wants you weak. She wants you to depend on her._

_SHUT! UP! YOU LYING, DECIETFUL DEMON! YOU’VE RUINED MY LIFE SO MANY TIMES! I WILL NOT LET YOU RUIN THIS! NEVER! AGAIN!_

Not knowing what to say or do, Rumplestiltskin simply followed Belle as she sat him on the cot. “Stay right here. I’m going to make some tea.” Bae watched him quietly, his backpack still on his shoulder. He lowered it to the ground with a soft thump and walked over to join him.

“Scoot over,” he said, smiling sadly. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“What?” Rumplestiltskin asked, a hairsbreadth away form panic. _Something else from Malcolm?_

Bae smiled. “Something good.” Rumplestiltskin moved over, and Bae sat, pulling something from his pocket. “Open your hand,” He said, and Rumplestiltskin did. Bae handed him the object.

“Your house key?” Rumplestiltskin asked in confusion.

“Not the key, this.” He touched the piece of pipe he’d turned into a makeshift keychain. “Do you remember this?”

“Our adventure with the steel cutter. If only we’d been able to destroy the dagger with it,” he lamented, closing his hand over it. The key bit into his palm, and he welcomed it.

“Yeah,” Bae agreed. “But then you might have died when Sydney shot you. Or Regina might have taken Henry because you didn’t have magic to stop her. The important thing... the important thing is that you kept you promise that day. You _tried_ to destroy it.”

“Bae, I _failed._ I tried to destroy the dagger and could not. I always fail you, son.” He could feel the tears building, and Rumplestiltskin wondered if there could be a more wretched creature in all the realms. _She broke you. You will never be whole again._

“No. No, you don’t. You found me. It took three hundred years, and you found me. And at the end of all that, after relying on magic as long as you did, you did everything you could to give it up, because that it what I asked of you. Don’t you understand? This is proof, Papa, proof that you love me enough to change. And if you can do that - give up the thing you relied on for so long - you can do this.”

Bae put his hands over Rumplestiltskin’s closed fist, the key and the pipe coiled together inside. He could feel the magic now, in the pipe. Like Ingrid’s ribbons, this literal piece of garbage had been transformed by True Love. Rumplestiltskin was holding power his hand, power untainted by his curse. 

After his declaration, Bae was too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “I just wanted you to know that…”

“Bae…” More tears. But these… “Thank you.” There were no other words for it.

Rumplestiltskin wrapped his arms around his boy and sat in silence until the whistling kettle made him jump. “Sorry!” Belle sat, sweeping it off the hotplate. “This is will be ready in a moment!”

She brought the cups (not the chipped one - it was safely at home), saucers, and infusers. She handed him one, which he mutely took. Then she moved the pillow at the head of the bed so she could sit down. She briefly laid her head against his shoulder as if she were the one that needed comforting. Maybe she did. It had to be difficult for her, dealing with him.

Rumplestiltskin handed Bae his key back. Somehow, although he could not see how, he felt like there was a solution there. Bae smiled and pocketed the key. “Papa… I asked August to set up a meeting between me and Emma tomorrow.”

“Why?” Belle, too, looked at him in confusion.

“I think whatever secret she has you keeping is involved in this. I’m going to try to convince her to let you tell us.”

“I don’t this she’ll allow that, Bae…”

“She’s been different since she got back from New York, Papa. She wanted to keep Henry’s memories from him, but we convinced her it was wrong. This secret… it’s part of that, isn’t it? It’s why she’s afraid.”

Bae had always been so wise. “…perhaps. You know I can’t tell you.” Rumplestiltskin himself didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He didn’t want to lie to his boy. But how was he supposed explain that, biologically speaking, Bae had a son? He was still a child himself. _No, not a child… He’s a man now. Taller and braver than me._ But he still did not deserve that burden.

“August thinks I’m right about it being mixed up with Ingrid.”

“He said that?” 

“I asked him if I was being paranoid to think so, and he said no.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled sardonically. “Clever of him.”

“Do you think he’s right about that?” _Asking without asking - very good, Bae._

“You’re not paranoid, Bae.”

“August is going to help me convince her. Will you come?”

Rumplestiltskin laughed humorlessly. “Miss Swan is not in the habit of listening to me about personal matters.”

“Isn’t she? She respects you.”

Did she? That was a strange thought. Three hundred years, and Rumplestiltskin had never thought to earn the Savior’s respect. The very idea had been laughable… up until the point he found Bae and he had needed her to care. That moment had changed everything.

Rumplestiltskin could not trust his curse. He could not trust his visions. He could not even trust his own mind. But he could trust his family. “If you think it would help, Bae, I’ll try.”

And then he had two sets of arms wrapped around him. Yes, he would trust them.

XxXxXxX

Much later that night, as Belle slept in his arms, it hit him. The solution that his tickled at his brain as he’d handed Bae that bit of pipe. 

So far, Rumplestiltskin had refused to entertain the idea of using the Hat because it required human sacrifice, but what of it didn’t? What rule existed that said that the magic had to be tied to a person? An object with such a requirement as that would be unspeakably dark, and the Hat was not.

Most magical objects paled in comparison to the power that came from a living being, true, but not all of them. True Love was the most powerful magic in the realms, and not only had he bottled it, he had three ribbons sitting in his collection infused with the same power as Bae’s pipe. Trash transformed into magic. Ingrid was planning to use them to shackle Emma and Elsa to her. Perhaps Rumplestiltskin could use them to begin to cleave himself from the dagger. 

He had to try it. Now.

Slowly, so as not to wake her, he pulled away from Belle. She didn’t stir. He clothed himself with magic and was about to leave to retrieve the ribbons, dagger, and Hat, when he imagined how Belle might react if she were to wake up to find him gone. He conjured a small scroll and left it on his pillow.

_Sweetheart,_

_I think I may have a solution to our problem with Malcolm. I’ve gone to test it. I hope to be back before you wake, but if I’m not, please don’t worry. I’ll be back well before light._

_Love,_

_Rumple_


	9. The Truth Will Set You Free

_It worked!_

The Hat consumed the ribbons, incorporating their magic into its own. It would take more magic - a lot more - but it worked!

_I can be free!_

He returned the Hat and dagger to their hiding place and transported home. As he had hoped, Belle was still deeply asleep. Rumplestiltskin picked up the scroll he’d left on his pillow, transformed it into a rose to give Belle in the morning, then changed back into his pajamas. He carefully pulled Belle into his arms, and that did wake her momentarily.

“Rumple?”

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” His kissed her softly, feeling light and joyful for the first time in… he wasn’t sure. 

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, no, no. I’m fine, sweetheart, more that fine.” 

She was mostly asleep again already. “Love you…”

“And I love you.” _You’ll be happy with this. I found a solution without harming anyone. Do you see what you’ve done for me?_

Her breath slowed, and her body relaxed. Rumplestiltskin started mentally cataloging the magic in town that he could use to free himself. What remained of the True Love potion, of course, but based on how much the ribbons had yielded, he did not think it would be enough. He could brew more, but that would take more time than they had. What other sources were there? The only item he owned that would do it in one go was the dagger, but that was out of the question. He needed it to complete the ritual, and he didn’t know what feeding it to the Hat would do to him anyway. Would it drag him in?

Other than the dagger, all his most powerful items were back in his vault in the Enchanted Forest, and thus inaccessible. Lifetimes of magic, now out of his reach. _Lifetimes… the mirror!_

Ingrid’s mirror would be perfect. He could free himself and remove the threat over the town in one fell swoop. He’d be a hero, just like he’d promised Bae so long ago, shedding all the darkness and weaknesses that had ruined things before. All he needed was a way past the wards, but what were wards except magic?

_Can the Hat consume the wards?_

That, he didn’t know. They were large, and bound so tightly within themselves that it might be like trying to sew with a spool of thread that could not be unwound. But there were other ways. If he could get himself invited in, it would be moot. If worst came to worst, he could have Miss Swan do the deed; it would surely not be difficult for her to get invited in.

Giddy with finally seeing an end to his nightmare, he lay next to Belle and counted the minutes until dawn.

XxXxXxX

Rumple was smiling. Honestly smiling. Belle felt such relief, and yet she did not know what brought this on - or how long it would last. “How are you this morning?”

“Well,” he said warmly, and it was wonderful to hear him say that after all his curtly muttered assurances that he was “fine”. _What changed?_ “How did you sleep?” he asked her.

“Well,” she echoed, kissing him. His kissed back gently, almost shyly, but the tension that had knotted up his shoulders and made his heart pound against her back these past nights had largely melted away. “Did you sleep?”

“No. I had an idea,” he said. “I think I have a solution for Ingrid.”

“You do?” she asked eagerly; that would explain his suddenly light mood.

“Yes. Do you remember what I told you about the Sorcerer’s Hat?”

She frowned. “That it consumes magic users?”

“I was mistaken,” he said eagerly. “It doesn’t just consume magic users, it can consume magical _objects._ Such as Ingrid’s mirror.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I found it.”

“You found it? Where? When?”

“At the Sorcerer’s mansion. I think… I think he may have left it there for me to find.”

“When was this? When we went to investigate the Books? You looked like you had seen a ghost…”

“Yes. I didn’t know what it meant, a message or a threat…” He suddenly met her eyes. “I wasn’t going to feed anyone to it, Belle, you must believe me. I couldn’t simply leave it there; it’s dangerous in the wrong hands.”

She took his hands. “I do believe you, and I understand that, but why didn’t you tell me that you’d found it? I was scared to death for you!”

He gaped at her for a moment. “Oh. I’m sorry, Belle; I didn’t intend that.”

By the gods, how could such a brilliant man be so stupid sometimes? “Why didn’t you tell me?” she repeated.

“I… aren’t you happy? Don’t you see what this means? I can free myself of the dagger and stop Ingrid without harming anyone. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

He was tensing up again. This was not the first time they had had a conversation like this; he simply did not understand. She couldn’t be angry, not when she was so glad to see him happy again, but… “Rumple, all I’ve ever asked for was for you to be honest with me. So please, why didn’t you tell me about the Hat?”

“I thought you’d be happy…” There was something almost child-like in his tone, and she felt like she as taking something precious from him, but she could not abide him keeping secrets, especially with the state of mind he was in. The last time he’d done that, he’d confronted Cora on his own. What if this time if he went after his father? He could be walking into a trap.

She took his hands. “I am. I am happy. You’ve come such a long way, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m worried also. If the Sorcerer left the Hat for you to find, he has a reason; it must be connected to everything that’s going on now.”

“Yes, of course. But I didn’t know what or how. I didn’t… I…”

He was almost panicking now. He wouldn’t be able to listen to reason; he never could when he got like this. She knelt on the bed and wrapped her arms around him; it really was the only way to ground him. “It’s all right. We’ll figure this out. _Together._ ”

She felt him flinch at that. She wasn’t trying to punish him or make him feel guilty, but she would not lie and pretend that he’d done nothing wrong (even as she wished so badly to be able to protect his fragile heart from any further pain). She leaned her forehead against his crown. “Let me in, Rumple, let me know what you’re thinking. Let me help you.” 

“I need this, Belle,” he pleaded.

“What do you need?” she asked, not releasing him.

“I need to be free of the dagger. This is the way, Belle, the only way for us all to be safe.”

Now she did relax her grip, only so she could look into his downcast eyes. “You could Kiss me; that would break it.”

“I’d be powerless, then. Ingrid and Malcolm would consume the town.”

“That’s not the only reason you don’t want to give up you’re power. You’re afraid, Rumple.”

“Of course I am!” he shouted, eyes wet. “If Bae had never broken my curse, I could have protected the dagger. She never would have been able to …”

“Of course you are,” she echoed, keeping her voice calm. “Anyone would be. But you cannot make decisions out of fear; you only put us - and yourself - in more danger when you do that.”

“That’s why this is so necessary! I’ll be able to protect you still, but I’ll be free, without the constraints of the dagger. You even suggested this, before you knew the price. But that’s _not_ the price; I won’t have to harm anyone, Belle, I swear.”

He’d hung all his hopes on this, she realized. She couldn’t bear to crush it, but was it a false hope? True, if he were right, this would protect him from others like Zelena, but the scars she had left on his heart and mind could not be healed by magic. No wish or spell or even True Love’s Kiss would erase what had happened to him. She had to make him see that, or he would destroy himself trying to make it so. “I believe you, Rumple, I believe you. But I am afraid for you. You cannot keep secrets, not about this. The Sorcerer could be using you, and Malcolm…”

“Will be able to do nothing.” His eyes begged her to understand. She did, and her heart was breaking for him, but that did not mean that she agreed with his conclusions. But she’d pushed him too hard already. He was breathing hard under her hands, panicky and defensive, and continuing to push would only shatter the composure he was fighting so hard to maintain.

She embraced him again, saying nothing. He clung to her, also saying nothing. She could only imagine the dark thoughts that were swirling in his head. He didn’t weep. She nearly did. She’d never doubted her own words before, or her ability to comfort him when they were together, but for the last eight months, she’d been helpless to help him. It was Emma and Regina who had rescued him in the end, not Belle, and he’d come back to her wounded down to his very soul. She was supposed to be the one to help him, but she had no idea how.

She felt like she was failing him.

XxXxXxX

_You see? You see? You will never be enough. She will leave you. She’s just like Milah-_

_SHE IS NOTHING LIKE MILAH!_

Rumplestiltskin knew - had known for quite some time - that he could never be the man that Belle deserved. He was not a hero. He did not share his heart freely. Even when he thought he might have found a way to be that man, another failure would be uncovered.

She’d asked so little of him, and he could not even fulfill her very reasonable request. He would not tolerate his curse laying his failure at her feet.

The grey dawn had become full daylight before he pulled away. Failures aside, Ingrid had to be dealt with. He moved to the closet and began selecting his armor for the day. She stayed in her kneeling position on the bed and watched him. It made him uncomfortable, but that was his own weakness. 

_What can I do for her? How can I possibly repay her?_

He couldn’t. That was the hard truth. She owed him nothing and gave him everything, and he could not even do the one thing she had asked. He was unworthy and always would be. He should let her go, but no matter how often he tried, she refused to leave. She’d asked that he honor her decision, and he could not go back on that, not after he’d already failed her in so many ways.

Somehow, the morning started.

Bae reminded him of their appointment with Emma later that day. He dreaded it. The truth would come out, and Bae would be furious with him. His curse was whispering at him to hide it, reveling in all the calamities that could result, all the ways these truths would hurt him, but he’d resolved to trust his family over his curse, so he waited out the morning and early afternoon. Helping Elsa complete the blood wards at least provided some distraction, but he simply couldn’t stomach the thought of food, and did not miss the Belle’s concerned looks when he did not even attempt to eat anything for breakfast or lunch. 

The puppet had texted Bae to be at the library at 3:30. Rumplestiltskin asked Bae if he did not mind if Belle joined them; naturally, he did not.

Rumplestiltskin gestured for Bae and Belle to enter the library before him; until Ingrid and Malcolm were caught, he would not take any chances. The newly reinstated Sheriff Swan turned to look at them accusingly. “OK, August, what’s going on? Something’s up; don’t say there isn’t.”

The puppet gestured helplessly at them. “Bae wanted to talk to you.”

“About Ingrid,” she said flatly. “There’s more. What is it?”

“I want you to give my father permission to tell us the secret the three of you have been keeping,” Bae said plainly. “It’s connected to the situation with Ingrid-”

“No, it isn’t!”

“You don’t know that,” August said. “You said-” he cut himself off, looking at Bae and Belle. 

Rumplestiltskin finished the thought. “Your adventures in the past led you to believe otherwise,” he reminded her. “I’d thank you not to deny it.”

“Do you _want_ to tell him?” she asked accusingly. “I thought we were on the same page here, Gold.”

Bae looked at him, eyes weary, as if she had just confirmed something he had suspected. _He knows me too well._ “Circumstances have changed.”

“How?”

 _I’m losing my mind._ “I may have a solution to Ingrid’s mirror.”

“What solution?” she asked hastily.

“I have come into possession of the Sorcerer’s Hat. It is, among other things, a magic sink. Provided we can get around the barrier, I can consume the mirror with it.”

Emma and the puppet exchanged a look. “When did this happen? I thought you said that Ingrid traded it back to the Sorcerer.”

“To my knowledge, she did. I found it three days ago, when we visited the mansion to investigate the Books. It was simply sitting there, out in the open.”

“Just sitting there? And no one else saw it? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does if he left it there for me, specifically, to find.”

“Why? Is that why you didn’t say anything?” she accused.

“I didn’t know at first. I still don’t know. I only have suspicions.”

“What suspicions?”

Belle gripped his arm and looked at him pleadingly. He had never really answered her this morning when she had asked the same question. “I did not realize until last night that it can consume magical objects. Prior to that, I only knew it could consume magic _users._ I’ve come to believe that the gods were attempting to drive me to use it for that purpose.”

“What?” Emma demanded. Bae and the puppet seemed equally shocked. Belle only looked distressed. _Fool! Why are you telling them this? They will turn on you! You will lose everything!_

“You heard me.”

“Why the _hell_ didn’t you say anything?” the Savior demanded.

“Come on, Emma,” the puppet said. “Would you have?” Startled, having expected no defense, Rumplestiltskin blinked at him. 

“I knew it,” Bae said, angry and sad, “This is what happens when you start keeping secrets. Please… please, just say you didn’t plan to do it.”

“I didn’t, Bae, I swear,” Rumplestiltskin professed. “I hid the Hat with the dagger to keep it safe, that is all.”

Bae let out a shaky sigh. “All right. All right then. But there’s more. I want to know it: all of it. August mentioned gods before, and now this thing with the hat. Is that what this secret is about?” 

Rumplestiltskin looked at Emma expectantly. When she didn’t speak, he prodded, “Well Miss Swan? Is it?”

She crossed her arms and huffed. “Emma,” the puppet said. “They have a right to know.”

“No, they don’t!” she shouted, and Rumplestiltskin could not prevent the flinch that wracked his body. He flinched again when Belle placed her hand on his back, her expression concerned. Ashamed, he turned back to the Savior.

“You don’t get to speak for my son,” he told her coldly.

“And you don’t get to speak for mine!”

“So this does involve Henry,” Bae said.

“How could you know that?” Emma asked suspiciously, eyeing the puppet.

“I figured it out.”

“Is he in danger?” Belle asked.

“Probably,” Rumplestiltskin replied blithely before Emma could deny it.

“Emma,” the puppet said. “Remember Blue. She got away with her crap for years because she counted on people not comparing notes. None of us had the whole picture. And were talking gods here; they’re on another level. We need to tell them.”

Belle took a step forward. “Emma, I understand that you don’t trust easily. I’m certain that you believe that you are protecting Henry by doing this, but it’s affecting us all now. We can help if you’ll let us.”

“Not with this,” she insisted stubbornly.

“Not in changing what has occurred,” Rumplestiltskin agreed, “But in altering what comes next? That’s the question.”

“Gold, you can’t possibly think this is a good idea!”

She was right; he didn’t. But unlike her, he knew that his judgment in this matter was compromised. “I’ve kept secrets from Bae before. Far too many. It has to end.”

Emma looked at Bae. “Kid, you don’t know what you are asking.”

“No, I don’t, but look at what has already happened. Emma, please, they’re targeting my father. He needs to be able to tell us everything.” Having expected anger, Rumplestiltskin did not know what to make of Bae’s impassioned plea. _He’s worried what they intend for me? Oh, Bae…_

Emma sighed. “All right, I get it, fine. But just you two; Henry does _not_ find out.”

“Emma,” the puppet objected.

“Non-negotiable. You want to help?” she asked Bae, “You can help. Just you two.” Then she looked at Rumplestiltskin. “Well? Do you want to tell him or should I?”

He didn’t know if she was trying to be kind or cruel, but it didn’t matter. Bae deserved the truth, and he deserved to hear it from his father. Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath. _Please, Bae, please understand._ “Bae, do you recall the incident when Henry was able to cross the blood wards on the shop without being invited?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes wide. “You said it was because he was the Truest Believer.”

“Ah, technically, no, I did not say that. I said it was related to his status as the Truest Believer.” Which had been evasive. A lie in all but name. _He will hate you. You lied to him._

Bae narrowed his eyes. “Related how?”

“That incident raised questions about Henry’s paternity. After observing both Miss Swan’s and Mr. Booth’s memories, I was able to determine that Henry’s father was not actually human. He was a golem sent to this world for the express purpose of fathering the Truest Believer.” Belle gasped and gave Emma sympathetic look.

But Bae was only more suspicious. “And how does that relate to the wards?” he asked.

“Do you recall what Mr. Booth had said about Mr. Calloway’s identity?” Belle raised a hand to her mouth. Bae just stared.

“He said… that Reul Ghorm told him that he was… me.”

Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard. “Yes. The golem was created with your essence.”

“My… essence?”

“Your DNA,” the puppet volunteered.

“My… that’s… no. You’re telling me… Henry is my son? That’s impossible! How could you… how could you keep that from me?!”

“I told him to,” the Savior said, reluctantly. “It was my idea.”

“He went along with it! And don’t say you were angry about it!” he accused. “You didn’t ever want me to know, did you?”

“I was trying to pro-”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare! You don’t get to justify this by trying to protect me! And you!” he shouted at the puppet, “I thought you were my friend!”

“Hey!” Emma objected. “August wanted to tell the truth from the beginning. Lay this on me or your dad if you want to, but August tried to talk us out of it.”

“Why?” Bae demanded of her, “Why would you lie about something like this?”

“Because ever since I broke the first curse, I’ve had to live with knowing that the only reason I was born in the first place was that people wanted something from me. I wasn’t going to put Henry through that. And we didn’t lie.”

“It’s the same thing!” Enraged, Bae turned and stalked towards the door. Without thinking, Rumplestiltskin raised his hand and cast a spell to lock it. “What the hell are you doing?” Bae shouted at him, “You can’t keep me here!”

“Bae,” Rumplestiltskin said, somehow finding that quiet place that allowed him to be patient but firm with his son when he’d never been able to do it for anyone else, “Hate me if you must. Shout at us if you need to, or go sit in the children’s room if you need some time to process this, but you will not leave this building unaccompanied as long as Ingrid and Malcolm are at large.”

Bae let out a frustrated scream, then stormed past Emma into the stacks. The three of them, he, Emma, and the puppet, looked at each other in uncomfortable silence. Naturally, it was Belle that broke it. “Do you want me to go after him?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, please.” he agreed. “You weren’t party to this; he’ll listen to you. Thank you.” He didn’t deserve her.

She took his hand and squeezed it lightly before letting go. Her heels clicked on the linoleum as she followed Bae. “I told you so,” the Savior muttered once she was out of sight.

“No,” Rumplestiltskin said, “You didn’t. The puppet did. He’s not angry about the golem, he’s angry we hid it from him.” And though he would admit his own culpability in that, Rumplestiltskin would never forgive the Savior if this proved to be the transgression that broke his relationship with his son forever. It was petty, but he’d never claimed to be above that.

“So what now?” the puppet asked. “Can you really stop Ingrid with the Hat?”

Grateful for the distraction, Rumplestiltskin answered, “Yes, if I can get through the wards. I don’t know if the Hat can consume them, or if we will have to find a way to be invited in.” He looked as Miss Swan.

“You want me to get Ingrid to let me in.”

“It may become necessary, although it would not be my first choice.”

“Because it would tip Ingrid off?”

“Because operating the Hat requires the dagger, and I have no intention of allowing anyone else to carry it into Ingrid’s lair.”

“Fair point.”

The conversation died after that. In the silence of the library, they could hear Belle and Bae talking, although the words we indistinct. Once again, it was the puppet who seemed unwilling to let things lie. “There was another thing,” he told Rumplestiltskin nervously. 

“Oh?”

“Bae thinks you lied to Anna about the ways in which Ingrid could make Elsa and Emma love her.” The question, ‘ _did you_ ’? went unsaid, but his meaning was clear enough. As was the Savior’s accusing stare.

“I didn’t. I did, however, keep to myself the method she was likely to use to exempt Emma and Elsa from her curse.”

“Why?” Emma demanded.

“Because it requires a set of objects she traded to me many years ago. I wasn’t sure at the time the best way to dispose of them.”

“And now?”

“They’re gone, consumed but the Hat. That is how I know it can contain the mirror.”

“What were they?’ the puppet asked.

“Ribbons, infused with the love Ingrid once shared with her sisters.”

“Wait, so they really did love each other once?”

“Yes. It was not until Ingrid lost control and accidentally killed Helga, that Gerda turned against her.”

“Wait, that’s what happened?” Emma asked. “She lost control? Everything Ingrid said makes sense now!”

“What did she say?” the puppet asked.

“She said the town would turn against us because of our magic; that’s what happened to Ingrid, isn’t it?”

“That’s an oversimplification,” Rumplestiltskin said, “But, essentially, yes.”

“And this losing control thing; does that happen often?”

“To Ingrid? I’m not aware of a single incident since she was released from the urn, actually, although there were many before that. Once she embraced her powers, she controlled them. Elsa’s experience was quite similar, although she never has embraced them quite the same way Ingrid did, and has been known to slip.”

“Right…” She began to pace. The puppet watched her anxiously, and Rumplestiltskin simply tried to think of how he could ever start making this all up to Bae. _You can’t. He hates you now._

Eventually, Bae emerged from the stacks, his eyes accusing, weary, and red-rimmed. Belle walked behind him, catching Rumple’s eye. Her expression said that this was far from over. _I’m sorry, Bae. I’m so sorry._

“So what about Ingrid and Malcolm?” Bae asked. “Are we going to deal with them or what?”

“We will,” Rumplestiltskin said, beyond relieved that Bae was willing to speak to him. “But we need to tread carefully. You were right, Bae, this is all interconnected. Ingrid is here because of the Sorcerer. Ingrid likely spurred Miss Swan to flee foster care, eventually causing her to meet the golem. The Sorcerer left the Hat for me to find. Miss Swan and Jones were sent into the past, and the gods interfered. The Truest Believer is here. The Savior, whose blood is required for the ink, is here. The Author, the Books, and the Quill are all here. All these events, all these forces, driving us all towards… something.”

“You really have no idea what?” Bae asked tiredly.

“None. Bae, if I knew…”

“Let’s all sit down,” Belle said. “These events… they are complicated. Perhaps intentionally. I think August may be right; they don’t want us comparing notes. So many events have occurred recently to drive us apart. So we _need_ to compare notes. Every detail. Perhaps that will reveal the gods plan.”

“You think so?” Emma asked. “I’ve been going nuts, not knowing what they want, what they’re planning. They want Henry, and I don’t know what for!”

“That’s why you wanted to leave,” Bae said. “Why you didn’t want him to remember.”

She buried a hand in her hair. “Yeah, kid. We were normal. Safe. No gods. No plans.”

“But it was a lie,” he reminded her. “Zelena found you. John and Michael found you. Even Hook found you.”

“And we don’t know how,” the puppet said. “Another thing that’s way too convenient. A magic bean and a memory potion at just the right time to bring you in to fight Zelena, and he could not tell us where they came from? Ten bucks says it was a god or the Sorcerer.”

“Right,” Emma said. “As if this wasn’t complicated enough. OK, Belle. Let’s talk.”


	10. Into the Light

Rumplestiltskin suggested that they relocate to the shop, due to the possibility that Ingrid was following Zelena’s model and spying on them. They did, and bit by bit, seated in the back room, it all came out. He’d expected Bae to ask further about the Hat, but it was actually Emma who asked the question. “So what’s in it for you, to use the Hat on people? The mirror, I get, but people? You said the gods were driving you to do it - how?”

“When filled with magic, the Hat has the power to sever Dark One from the dagger,” Rumplestiltskin explained. Bae looked up sharply.

“It would destroy your curse?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Only the limits on it. To use the Hat… well, it essentially transforms the Dark One into a Sorcerer.”

“So using it on the mirror would give you more power,” Bae said flatly. “Of course you didn’t tell us that!”

“Actually, he did,” Belle said. “Rumple told me quite some time ago that the Hat can do that. Anna too. He wasn’t trying to hide it.” Bae sighed noisily.

“It’s not the power I care about,” Rumplestiltskin explained. “Not now. It’s the freedom. Malcolm is after the dagger, Bae. If he obtains it, you _know_ what he could do.”

“Then don’t let him obtain it.”

“Bae… I…”

“As long as the dagger exists, people will always seek it out,” Belle said. “If this plan can stop Ingrid and free your father at the same time, I think that is only a good thing.”

Rumplestiltskin did not trust himself to speak. _How? How can she stand by me after all this?_ “I agree,” the puppet said. “Even with the curse broken, Zelena was still able to resurrect it. If this actually destroys the dagger, I think we need to look into it. And, well, if the Sorcerer has something planned, something with Ingrid, wouldn’t it be nice if we had a Sorcerer of our own?”

They all looked at him. “Could this be the gods plan?” Emma asked. “Could they want someone to get rid of the Sorcerer?”

“That… depends on the god, I suppose. It’s said the Sorcerer’s powers come from the gods, that he obeys their will as Reul Ghorm does. But the gods often disagree with one another…” Was this the plan? Was he intended to be another champion, serving different gods than the Sorcerer and furthering their interests? _I serve no one. Never. Again._ “With the dagger destroyed, my will would be my own regardless.”

“Do you _know_ that?” Bae asked. “Where is all this information coming from?”

“That… damn, might actually be a good point,” the puppet agreed. “It wouldn’t be the first time the gods fed you information to screw with you. And the rest of us.”

“This does not come from my visions,” he said quietly. “I pieced it together from books and… memories of the previous Dark Ones.” _Of course. Another trick. Another lie. Of course. Of course I can never be free!_

“And those aren’t suspect,” Emma said sarcastically.

Belle cast a scolding look in her direction and took his hand, her expression full of sympathy. “One thing at a time,” she said. “Are you certain that the Hat can consume the mirror?”

“Yes. I tested it.” And that was part of the lie, wasn’t it? The Hat had never required human sacrifice. His curse had already lied to him about that, and he hadn’t seen it. _Fool._

“Then we can still continue with the mirror,” Belle said. “We don’t have to make any other decisions about the Hat, not until we are sure. But the mirror is the threat now.”

“Right,” Emma agreed. “And with the ribbons gone, that means Ingrid can’t cast her curse without me and Elsa being caught up in it, right, Gold?”

“Ribbons?” Bae asked, “What ribbons?”

“Ingrid’s magic ribbons,” Emma said dismissively. “Infused with the love of her sisters or something. Doesn’t matter.”

Bae sighed bitterly. “So that’s what you were hiding. I knew you knew more about Ingrid’s plan than you were saying.”

“You were right, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin said. “I hid the existence of the ribbons. That was deceptive of me, and I apologize.”

Bae looked at him desperately. “Do you? Do you really?”

Heart breaking, Rumplestiltskin replied. “Yes.”

Bae looked away. Belle put a hand on Rumplestiltskin’s arm. Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, Ingrid does still have other options on that front.”

“Like what?” Emma asked.

“A sleeping curse for one. A stasis spell. But with the ribbon, she could not only protect you from the curse, but also boost her own power by draining yours. To my knowledge, there is no other way for her to do that. Except for the Hat,” he said wryly, “But she would not then be able to have you as her sisters if she did that.”

“She can’t have us now,” Emma said flatly. “Her attack on the school didn’t work out like she wanted. Magic can’t make us love her, and if she uses the curse to make the town hate us we’ll know… she has to have something else in mind. Any ideas?”

“Let me think…” It was hard to, with his curse crowding his mind and his life in shambles, but the threat of Ingrid the only reason Bae was still talking to him. He _would_ stop her. “There is the Curse of the Empty-Hearted.”

“What does that do?”

“Magic cannot create love, but it can convince a person that they love another. If Ingrid becomes desperate enough, she may decide that’s enough. However, the curse would require her to sacrifice the heart of the person she hates most. And as far as I know, that person is me.”

“Can she sacrifice your heart?” Emma asked. “What of she got the dagger? Could this be why she and Malcolm have teamed up?”

“No, she can’t, not even with the dagger. The dagger itself is the only thing that can kill me. I imagine it would be very uncomfortable, but if she were to attempt to harvest my heart and crush it, she would not succeed.”

“How do you know it’s you?” Bae asked, dully not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t, not for certain, but there aren’t that many options. She has spent most of the past half century either trapped in an urn or in a cursed town. The person who trapped her in that urn is dead, and I am the one that traded it to her in the first place.”

“You did?” Bae asked sharply. “Why?”

“She petitioned me for a way to control her powers. I offered to train her, but she didn’t take me up on it.”

“Can’t imagine why…” Emma said dryly.

“Instead, I traded her a pair of enchanted gloves and the urn. They were the only objects in my collection at the time that would be any use towards that end.”

“Your price - the ribbons?” the puppet asked.

“Just so.”

“Did you have any visions telling you to make that trade?”

“No. I was interested in the ribbons because they were infused with True Love. As you know, that was a subject of some interest to me at the time.”

“True Love?” Belle asked.

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Emma said. “If they had True Love, how could all that happen? Couldn’t they have saved Helga?”

“Had she not shattered, yes, they could have.”

Belle inhaled sharply, bringing a hand to her mouth, but the puppet looked thoughtful. “And what are the odds of that happening? Her shattering like that?”

“You think this is part of the set-up?” Emma asked him.

“It all seems to be, doesn’t it? Like you said, too many coincidences.”

“There are many,” Rumplestiltskin said. “And that brings us to her final option: the Author.”

“Right,” Emma said. “But we’re on top of that. Elsa has the Book now, you’ve got the Quill, and I’ve got the ink. All I have to do is not go dark.”

“I wonder…” Belle began, tapping her pen against her notes.

“Yes?” Rumplestiltskin asked.

“Bae is right; these secrets could well have destroyed us. What if they were counting on that? What if that deception was your first step on the path of darkness?” she asked Emma. The Savior frowned, troubled. “Rumple, you said that you believed that the gods were trying to drive you to use the Hat. Perhaps they were trying to drive Emma to lie as well.”

“I didn’t get a nice gift-wrapped super weapon or a set of evil memories telling me what to do,” the Savior objected, but there was something in her expression that gave Rumplestiltskin pause.

“No,” the puppet agreed with her, “But Henry’s been under constant threat since you first came to Storybrooke. What if that’s why he’s important? He’s a way to get to you.”

“You think they’ll use him to turn me dark? That doesn’t make sense. We’re talking about gods here; if they wanted ink, couldn’t they just make some? Why would they need the Author at all?”

“Maybe the point isn’t the outcome but the exercise,” the puppet said. “Maybe they’re testing you. The gods are kind of known for that. Blue, also. If it was just about getting me through the wardrobe, she could have done it herself. Hell, she could have called the cops on you herself and not even needed me. But my father choosing to send me through, my bad decisions, that was part of the narrative.”

“You could well be right,” Rumplestiltskin said. _Is that it? The Hat is a test? What right do that have to do that?_

Belle nodded. “Yes. That is consistent with what I have read about the gods as well.”

“So where does that leave us?” Emma asked.

“We know the Hat can consume the mirror,” August said. “I say we go with Belle’s plan and deal with that, then figure the rest out later.”

“Makes sense to me,” Emma said. “So the question is: how do we get through the barrier? What are the chances that the Hat can get you in?” she asked him.

“I really won’t know until I try it,” Rumplestiltskin answered. “But if it doesn’t work, we’ll have lost our element of surprise.”

“And then she’s not likely to let me just waltz in with the thing,” Emma said.

“Precisely. There is a third option.”

“Oh?”

“I get her to invite me in.”

“How?”

“I offer her something she cannot refuse. She doesn’t know I have destroyed the ribbons.”

“But what would you get out of it?” Bae asked. “If she knows you, she’ll know you’d only approach her if she had something you wanted.”

“The only thing I want is to keep you both safe,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“That’s it then,” Emma said. “The ribbons for safe passage for Bae and Belle. She’d believe that, right?”

Rumplestiltskin thought of the dolls. It wouldn’t be hard to convince her that Malcolm’s threats had rattled him. It was the truth. “Yes, I believe she would.”

“Do you think it’s wise?” Belle asked. “This plan would require you to go there alone.”

“Ingrid is no threat me,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“Malcolm is,” Bae said.

“Malcolm is powerless,” Rumplestiltskin stated firmly.

“I just had another thought,” the puppet said. “If you destroy the mirror, what’s to stop her from freezing the entire town? Can you? ‘Cause it took bottled True Love just to save Marion, and I don’t think you have enough for all of us.”

They exchanged looks. “There are these,” Rumplestiltskin said, summoning the magic-blocking cuff that Owen and Tamara had brought with them and the bottle of squid ink Ariel had retrieved during the fight with Cora.

“Where did you find those?” Emma asked. “We looked everywhere for them. We thought they’d been left behind by the new curse.”

“I have a number of bolt holes hidden and warded only to be accessible by my own magic. They were hidden there.”

“More secrets?” Bae complained.

“You never asked,” Rumplestiltskin said, directing his eyes to the tabletop “I will show you, if that is what you want.”

Bae just looked away, lowering his head and burying his fingers in his hair. “Rumple, are you sure?” Belle asked. “I don’t want you to face them alone.”

“I’m fi-” She’d asked him not to lie, and so he would not. “Ingrid cannot match me.”

“Should we be bringing the others into this?” the puppet asked. “Because this still seems like a secret mission.”

“It is,” Rumplestiltskin said. “The more people who know about this, the more chances for Ingrid to be made aware of our plan. For it to succeed, I must do this quickly. Tonight, preferably.”

“I gotta say, sending you in there without backup makes me kinda nervous,” the Savior said.

“And what alternative would you suggest? I can hardly convince her that I am there to bargain if you are there,” he pointed out, snappishly. _Why do you answer to them? Take what you want!_

“We go after Ingrid first, get the mirror later. I’ll contact Elsa; you know Ingrid won’t turn down a chance to meet with us; we can say it’s about the attack on the school. Once we have her, you’ll have as much time as you need for the barrier, the mirror, whatever.”

“Yes,” Belle said, but she was looking at Rumplestiltskin. She didn’t want him to go in there alone. He didn’t want to go in there alone, not with the dagger. 

“The idea has merit,” he agreed. “But recall that to tell Elsa is to tell Anna, and Anna, while possessing many sterling qualities, is hardly the soul of discretion.”

“I think she can manage a couple of hours,” Emma said dryly.

“We should tell David and Mary Margaret,” Bae said tiredly. “If this goes wrong, Ingrid could freeze the town. They should know before we take the risk.”

“He’s right,” the puppet said. Over Rumplestiltskin’s objections, he continued, “The only secret here is that we have the cuff and the ink. Wouldn’t it makes sense for Emma and Elsa to talk to the town leaders before bargaining for the safety of civilians?”

“Yes,” Belle agreed. “Let her think that they’re worried about the attack. Rumple, whatever the gods and the Sorcerer have planned, they were counting on you acting independently. The more information we share, the more of their plan will be revealed.”

His curse was mocking him for even entertaining the idea of consulting with the town leaders before acting. That decided him. “Very well. But we will meet at the loft.”

“OK,” Emma said. “But we don’t have to bring up Nate.”

“Emma…” the puppet objected. 

“August…”

“I believe Booth is right about Henry,” Rumplestiltskin said, interrupting her objection.

“Right how?”

“If I were going to turn you dark, Henry is precisely where I would start,” he said baldly. “I would not only threaten him, I would attempt to drive you apart.” He did not look at Bae as he said that. 

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “And you’d know, wouldn’t you?” It was said without heat, a simple statement of fact.

He appreciated the lack of pretense. “I would.”

“Fine. Give me an hour. We’ll meet at the loft at five thirty.” And she got up, the puppet following.

“Agreed.”

They left. Rumplestiltskin, Bae, and Belle were left at the worktable. Bae stared at the tabletop, arms crossed, and frowning. Belle took Rumplestiltskin’s arm and leaned her head against his shoulder, but she was looking at Bae expectantly. “Bae?” she asked.

“It’s not OK,” he said, still not looking up.

“Bae, I’m so sorry,” Rumplestiltskin said. “I never wanted this for you. Any of it.”

He finally looked up. He looked scared, and far, far too young. “She’s going to tell Henry that I’m his father,” he said.

“Bae, you’re not-”

“I am!”

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “You’re not responsible. Henry has a family to care for him and many friends. He’s fine. This doesn’t have to change anything for either of you.”

“Why me? Why was I the one they needed for the Truest Believer? Is it because of you? Your magic?”

That blow connected solidly. “I don’t know.”

Bae tugged at his hair again. Belle leaned forward, reaching out for him. Bae lowered his hand to the table and let her take it. She looked at Rumplestiltskin. “I think we should talk to Archie about this. As a family.”

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin agreed immediately. “If… if you would like to, Bae.”

“I’d _like_ for this to be over. No more magic. No more gods. But obviously, that isn’t changing any time soon, so, yeah. If you’ll go.”

“Of course I will.”

“Fine, then.” Bae pushed his stool back and moved over to sit on the cot. He pulled up his legs, resting his forehead against his knees. Rumplestiltskin looked at Belle, asking her with his eyes to go comfort him. She smiled softly and shook her head. 

“You go,” she whispered.

“He doesn’t want-”

“He does. He needs his father. Go.”

Hesitantly, Rumplestiltskin stood. He made plenty of noise as he moved around the table. Bae didn’t look up. He stood there a full minute before asking. “Bae, can I sit down?”

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

He sat. He looked over at Belle, who nodded at him encouragingly. When he didn’t react right away, she waved her hand at him, as if telling him to get a move on. He could hear Bae’s breathing deepen and begin to hitch. _Oh, Bae…_ Unable to bear the sight of his boy suffering, Rumplestiltskin reached out, just a light touch on Bae’s arm. He didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry, Bae. I’m so sorry this happened to you. And I’m sorry for keeping it from you. I truly am.”

This heartbreak was exactly what he had been trying to spare his boy in the first place, but, as always, he’d only made matters worse. _You’re going to lose him. You always lose him._

_Maybe. But I always find him again._ Hoping he could be forgiven for taking the liberty, Rumplestiltskin put an arm around Bae’s shaking shoulders. No objections. He put his other arm around him too. After a few minutes, Bae leaned into him, crying silent tears. Belle moved over to join them, and none of them said a word as they waited out the hour.

XxXxXxX

“So,” Henry said, as soon as Bae walked in the door. “You’re my dad. Biologically.” Bae’s head still felt like it was full of bricks from his crying jag earlier. He didn’t know whether to be angry or just scared, so he just shoved it all down and would unpack it later. Maybe that was cowardly, but he was beyond giving a damn.

“Yeah,” he said. Papa stood behind him, watching silently.

Henry smiled. “That’s cool.”

“It… it is?”

Henry nodded. “When I first asked Mom - Emma - about my dad, she lied and said he died in a fire because she wanted me to think he was a hero. Then August told us about Nate, and I thought he was just a shady guy who left my mom in jail. Turns out my father is a hero after all.”

“I’m no hero, Henry.”

“Yes, you are! You fought Cora, and Hook, and-”

“I never fought Hook. I ran from him or called my father on him-”

“You saved his life,” Papa said quietly. They looked at him. “I’d have killed him, for what he did to you. For what he tried to do to Belle. You convinced me to have mercy.”

“And look where that led us,” he snapped. “If he hadn’t found the dagger, we never would have been sent back. Zelena never would have…” Bae didn’t think Henry had noticed Papa flinch, but Bae certainly did. 

Very quietly, Papa said, “I would endure any number of years at Zelena’s hands if it would keep you exactly as you are. Merciful and good. You are a hero, Bae, you are.”

The pleading expression on Papa’s face was hard to take, but Henry’s worshipful smile was worse. Bae shook his head. “Come on; we should start.”


	11. Tête-à-Tête

More explanations. More arguments. Mary Margaret had contacted Regina, who had plenty to say on the subject of Henry’s paternity, and a slate of questions that they could not answer about the Sorcerer and the gods.

“You really have no idea what they want with Henry?” she asked again.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Asking again will not give you a different answer than it did the last three times, dearie. I. Don’t. Know. But if I had to guess, he is Miss Swan’s weakness - whomever attempts to turn her dark will most likely start with him. Just as I already told you.”

“I still think there’s more,” the lad himself said. “That has nothing to do with me being the Truest Believer.”

“Maybe that part’s over,” the puppet suggested. “You made Emma believe. Maybe that’s what they needed it for.”

“And Pan did what he did because of that, which means Greg and Tamara were only here because of that - could that have been it?” Bae asked.

“I’m twelve! My job as Truest Believer can’t be over yet!”

Rumplestiltskin tried not to smile. Whatever else he was, Henry always brought a certain levity and determined optimism to things. But, “It is a question for a later time. We need to move swiftly on Ingrid. Tonight, if possible.”

“Yes!” Anna agreed. “Once she’s locked up and we’ve destroyed the mirror, we’ll have all the time we need. I mean, not _all_ the time. This won’t stop time, or anything. Hey, can you do that, now that you’re the Dark One again? Obviously time travel is a no-no, but stopping time isn’t the same thing. Regina’s curse stopped time, and there’s Neverland…”

“Depending on precisely what you mean by ‘stopping time’, and under certain circumstances, yes, I can. But it is difficult and usually more effort than it it’s worth,” Rumplestiltskin replied.

“Getting back to the issue,” Regina drawled, rolling her eyes. “I say fine. We have to stop Ingrid before she attacks anyone else or finishes that mirror. If you three think you can do it, have at it.”

“How likely do you think this plan is to succeed?” Elsa asked Rumplestiltskin.

“Likely enough that it is worth trying. Ingrid is powerful and Malcolm extremely sly; together, they are a danger to everyone here.” And they were a distraction. The sooner they were dealt with, the sooner they could look into the lager forces at work. _And Malcolm frightens you. A little boy frightened by his father._

“Even you?” Regina asked skeptically.

“Yes,” he said simply. He would not elaborate further, not to her.

“Any reason we can’t go right now?” Emma asked.

“None that I see. Only understand that once you and Elsa are through the barrier, you are on your own. If you can lure Ingrid to this side of it, I can help, but not if she remains inside.”

“She won’t hurt us,” Elsa said. “At least, I think she won’t.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Emma said. “Stalkers get weird when they get rejected. But there’s two of us and one of her; if it comes down to a battle, we’ve got her. And if she runs, she might leave the mirror behind, and we can take it out to Gold. The mirror is the priority.”

Elsa nodded. “Very well. Let’s go.” She stood and drew her hand down the front of her body. Her sweater dress and leggings transformed into the turquoise gown she wore as Queen of Arendale.

“Uh, it’s a battle, not a ball,” Emma said.

“This is armor,” Elsa replied neatly. “She will recognize it.”

“Well. OK, then.” She grabbed her red jacket. At Elsa’s smirk, the Savior shrugged and said, “You’ve got your armor; I’ve got mine.” Elsa smiled and gestured to the door.

“I can transport us there.”

“Ugh. More teleporting. Beats walking, I guess. You’ll have an eye on us, Gold?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded and waved his left hand in a wide circle. A viewing portal opened, showing the two of them by the door. “Until you go through the barrier, I will be able to see you.”

“Good luck!” Anna called. “You can do it!”

Elsa smiled fondly and waved to her sister. They left by the front door, disappearing from the hall and appearing in the clearing just outside the barrier. The viewing portal showed their arrival and Emma’s attempts to summon Ingrid. The snow witch did not appear, but the barrier before them rippled. Emma looked at Elsa. “Ready?”

Elsa nodded. “Ready.”

They stepped through the barrier.

XxXxXxX

Ingrid hadn’t expected her sisters so soon, but she would never turn them away. She let them in and watched as they approached her fortress. Emma whistled. “Can you do this kind of thing?” she asked Elsa.

“Oh, yes. I have a much larger one at home. It’s above the snow line, so most of the snow creatures I have created live there.”

“Just how many have you created? I thought it was just Olaf?”

Elsa shrugged charmingly. “I’m not sure how many. I got a bad cold once and accidentally created a small army of tiny ones. They keep the sentinel company. Olaf is the only one who lives down in the valley with us.”

“Wait, you can get colds?”

“Yes. I thought it was odd too, but then Belle explained what a cold actually is. It’s not about being cold at all; it’s a virus. That’s why my powers did not make me immune.”

“Huh.”

“Hello,” Ingrid said, appearing behind them. “It’s good to see you both.”

She smiled as they spun around, Elsa in her gown, Emma in her jacket. She would have to ask the story behind it sometime. _There will be time for that later._ “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“The attack on the school,” Emma said.

“What about it?”

“It ends here. No more ice monsters.”

“My creations are tools, not monsters. The real monsters are back in town.”

“And right here,” Emma said.

“You aren’t a monster.”

“I wasn’t talking about us.”

“Is it Malcolm you’re after, then? He’s around here somewhere.”

“Funny. We’re here to stop the attacks. What do you want?”

“You know what I want. I want for you both to see the truth. And I don’t think you have yet.” The Sorcerer had not explained exactly how her sisters would come to her, but Ingrid had been expecting it to take much more than this. But the Sorcerer had promised her it would happen. _He is wise._ She smiled.

“The only thing that attacks on innocents show us is that you have become the monster my mother accused you of being,” Elsa said. “Rumplestiltskin told us that Helga’s death was an accident, but everything you’ve done since being released from the urn was your choice. You can choose to be good. Or you can choose to be evil.”

“I _did_ choose to be good. I fought it for so long, just like you. And just like you, it wasn’t enough. Our power is not meant to be shut behind castle walls or hidden behind gloves-”

“Then I guess you should have taken Gold up on those lessons, huh?” Emma asked dryly.

“And what would the Dark One have molded me into?” Ingrid asked. “The only one I could ever trust with my powers is myself. You will learn the same lesson in time.”

“OK, yeah,” Emma said, “So life sucked for you. You got really unlucky, or the gods were screwing with you or something. But that doesn’t give you the right to take it out on everybody else. _That’s_ what makes you a monster.”

“It’s not wrong to reject the social contract when the other party has not held up their end,” Ingrid said. “I have read the books of this world, Emma.”

“You haven’t given anyone a chance to hold up their end,” Elsa said, “Not since my mother. You’re punishing others for what she did; that is wrong.”

“Elsa,” Ingrid said with a fond smile. “You are so kind, but so naive. We don’t have to give others the chance to hurt us over and over again; we are allowed to protect ourselves.”

“Bullshit,” Emma said. “The Spell of Shattered Sight has nothing to do with protecting anyone. It’s about inflicting your misery on other people just to make them feel it, that the entire point of the story. See? I can read books too.” While Elsa had kindness, Emma had strength. They _were_ her sisters.

“So what are you offering me?”

“What do you want?” Emma repeated. “You didn’t attack the school for no reason. You wanted something; what is it?”

Well that was hardly a question Ingrid could answer. She deflected instead. “What do you think I wanted?”

“Cut the crap,” Emma said. “If you know me like you claim you do, you know I don’t like games. State your terms.” And that was pure Emma, straight to the point.

“Well,” Ingrid said, “Let’s begin by being civilized to one another. Would you come in for tea?” She gestured and the front doors opened.

Emma and Elsa exchanged a look, and it was Elsa’s royal manners that carried the day. “We will, thank you.”

XxXxXxX

As far as Emma was concerned, the creepiest part about this - and the part they had not properly planned for - was Malcolm. He was a smarmy, manipulative con-man that made Hook look like a choir boy. He had a certain deadness in his eyes that, paired with what she knew of him, convinced her that he was a sociopath. Emma was starting to think it was a wonder that Gold was as well adjusted as he was.

Emma had the cuff in her pocket. They had discovered that there was no way for Elsa to teleport it on, so it would be down to Emma to snap it on as soon as she got the chance. (Elsa also had a vial of squid ink, but any splash back would affect Emma and Elsa just as much as Ingrid, so it was the last resort.) Emma had tried to be the last one to sit, hoping to have Ingrid on her right hand, but Ingrid had insisted on guests first, and Malcolm had then taken the seat next to Emma. Ingrid was now across from her. _This is going to be tricky._

Ingrid poured the tea and served it with a tray of chocolate biscotti that Emma was pretty sure were from the Storybrooke Coffee Company. “Been to town recently?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” Ingrid answered, that annoying, mysterious smile teasing the corners of her lips. It seemed ever-present, even when she was spewing the most ridiculous crap. She was clearly delusional. Emma might have been able to pity her if she wasn’t so determined to make everyone else suffer as she had.

Unlike Ingrid’s carefully regal manners, Malcolm lounged insolently in his chair, chewing on a biscotti like it was a carrot. He was watching Emma and Elsa like they were both on the menu, and it was almost funny. A lesbian and a jaded woman who knew exactly what he was - if he actually expected to be able to charm either of them, he was in for a rude awakening.

“So how’s Rumple?” he asked with a dangerous grin.

“Pretty pissed off. I’d stay away from him, if I were you,” Emma answered.

“If he didn’t kill Zelena, he’ll not have it in him to kill me. Always was a coward, that one.”

Emma didn’t know all the details of what had gone down between Gold and Malcolm, but she knew enough. She opened her mouth to tell the asshole off, but Elsa beat her to it. “It takes far more courage to become a better person than it takes to kill an unarmed man in a jail cell. You should be thankful.”

He laughed. “Oh, I am, lassie.”

“We’re not here to discuss Rumplestiltskin,” Ingrid said primly.

“Right. So, can I ask you a question?” Emma asked.

“Of course,” Ingrid replied. That smile was getting creepy.

“Why don’t you wear shoes?”

What Emma had meant to be a disarming question actually seemed to flatter her. “To feel the natural forces as they travel through the ground. The ground here is so refreshing this time of year; I’m so glad that Storybrooke will finally be experiencing a true winter.”

“OK, that explanation made more sense than I was expecting.” Emma decided to work the unexpected flattery angle; Ingrid seemed vulnerable to that.

She was. She smiled contently. “There’s so much I can teach you. Both of you.”

“So what is it that you want?” Emma repeated. “Keeping in mind that people who ask me to believe things are often disappointed, at least initially.”

“I’m aware. I was one of those people, once. I told you about your powers when you were in my care. You couldn’t believe me, not yet.”

“That’s why you took my memories?”

She nodded. “This world - it does not nurture the spirit like ours does. At least, it didn’t.”

“But now we have magic.”

Another smile. “Yes.”

“Still haven’t answered my question. What. Do. You. Want?”

“Keeping in mind that you cannot believe something just because it is asked of you.”

“Right.”

She took a sip of tea, considering her answer. “If I cannot have belief, I will ask for time. Time with my sisters.”

“We’re not your sisters,” Elsa insisted.

That was the kind of thing that might set a stalker off, but as before, Ingrid only smiled serenely. “In time, you will see that you are.”

“OK, time,” Emma said. “In exchange for no more attacks. How much time? When?”

“This is nice,” Ingrid said. “Having tea with you both. Tea time. Every day.”

“Uh, American here - what time is tea time?”

“Three thirty in the afternoon,” Elsa said.

“To five,” Ingrid finished. “But I will shorten it to four thirty. An hour every day, I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”

“OK, fine.” Emma put her own cup down. “Shake on it?” She didn’t extend her hand yet, instead bracing them both on her hips. With the tips of her fingers, she pulled the cuff out of her pocket and slipped it into sleeve.

“Not the usual way to seal a magical contract, but it will do.” Ingrid extended her hand. Emma extended hers. 

Malcolm seemed to catch on a spit second before it happened, because he warned, “Ingr-”  
Elsa flicked some kind of spell at him under the table and his chair toppled backwards. Ingrid turned to look, and Emma snapped the cuff on, standing up as she hung on to her wrist. Malcolm took one look at their hands and turned to run. “Stop him!” Emma told Elsa.

Elsa raised her hand and a fence of giant icicles sprang out of the ground in front of Malcolm, then behind, quickly encircling him entirely.

“Well, how about that?” Emma said. “Two for one.”

Ingrid tried to pull away. “Emma! What are you doing? What is this?”

“A magic-blocking cuff. And no, you won’t be able to got it off.”

Ingrid stared at her like she’d been betrayed. “Emma… this isn’t right. You’re not one of them; you’re my sister.”

“I am not your sister. And I am one of them. This is my town and my family you’re screwing with. Ingrid, you are under arrest.” Emma walked around the table, Ingrid’s wrist still in her hand. She didn’t resist as Emma cuffed her hands behind her back.

But she did cry, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go!”

“According to whom?” Emma asked suspiciously. “The Sorcerer? He’s the one that sent you to Earth, right? And got you into Storybrooke without Regina noticing? What did he tell you?”

“I can tell you!” Malcolm volunteered. “For a price.”

“Quiet!” Ingrid snapped, and Emma shook her head.

“I’m not making any deals with you,” she told him. He had wanted Henry’s heart, and that was on top of all the other horrors; there was nothing he could offer that she would take. 

With Elsa’s help, Malcolm was also cuffed and taken outside. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to make it easy and just drop this barrier?” Emma asked Ingrid. Ingrid stubbornly looked away. “Fine. Be that way.”

Once they crossed it, Gold, Regina, and Anna appeared to greet them. “Elsa!” Anna cheered. “I knew you could do it!”

Elsa smiled broadly, and Ingrid glared at her younger niece. “May I suggest the hospital rather than the Sheriff’s station?” Gold said, his eyes on Malcolm. “The increased security would be wise.”

Malcolm grinned at him wolfishly. “Scared, laddie?” From the set of his shoulders, Emma could tell that Gold was.

But he did not admit it. He looked away boredly, in an intentional snub. “Or the cell in the mines?” he continued.

Regina snorted. “The hospital has better security,” she said. 

“Now that we have the cuff, that’s probably true,” Emma agreed, refusing to fight with her.

Gold made a showy gesture, and their prisoners disappeared. “Very well,” he said after the fact. Emma rolled her eyes. 

“At least let me call the staff and let them know. We’re lucky George is still in lock up, or no one would be there.”

Gold examined the barrier, testing it in various places as Emma made her call. “I was kind of hoping it would fail when we put the cuff on, but I guess not,” she said, once she had put her phone away. “Can you use the Hat to get it down?” 

“I think so, actually. Stand back.” He conjured a round, jeweled box and set it on the ground. Next was the dagger, which he waved over the box. Instead of opening, the box glowed, pouring out an indigo smoke that coalesced into the Hat. 

“Woah.” Emma could not decide what was more disconcerting: the fact that the Hat appeared to be made of a real, miniature sky, or how much it resembled the hat from Fantasia. “That’s just creepy.”

Gold looked up and gave her an evil, little smirk before banishing the dagger and replaced it with a wand. “The magic of the barrier is not actually coiled, as Zelena’s was,” he explained. “I feel crystals instead. It’s quite fascinating really.”

“Riveting,” Regina said flatly.

“Hush, he’s teaching,” Anna said.

“I _know._ ”

“I should actually probably know this stuff,” Emma said, then asked Gold, “So what does that mean for bringing it down?”

“She constructed it as if it were made of ice. What does that mean?”

Emma pinched her nose. “Please, Gold, it’s been a long day. Could you be direct, just this once?”

“Oh! I know the answer!” Anna said, and Elsa chuckled.

“Me too. Ice _melts._ ” 

Gold nodded. “Just so. I don’t need to find the end of the thread, just cause a destabilization anywhere in the crystal structure. The Hat should do the rest of the work, and as the destabilization spreads, the entire thing should, essentially, avalanche.” 

“Straight into the Hat.”

“Precisely.”

He waved the wand in his left hand, his right braced firmly on his cane. His entire body was stiff with effort, and Emma didn’t dare make a sound in case it interrupted his concentration. She did feel like she was back in school when he got like this, and after her experiences in school (with a few exceptions), she did not relish that feeling. Anna fidgeted next to her, bouncing on the tips of her toes. Emma glanced at her. Whatever kept her so perky all the time, Emma could use some just about now. 

Regina had started to shift impatiently before Gold began to move at all, pulling the wand back slowly. Emma could feel more than see a slight distortion in the air, and Gold teased the wand like a snake charmer with a flute. He’d taken two full steps back before he was even with the Hat, and then he transferred the want into his right hand, letting his cane fall to the ground. With his left, he titled the Hat into its side, the opening facing the barrier. Immediately, a sort of great whirlpool emerged from it, filled with creeping threads of yellow light. Gold took two more hasty steps back, grabbing his cane and lowering the wand.

“Wow,” Anna said. 

“It’s working,” Elsa said, “I can feel the barrier collapsing.”

Emma tried to as well, but she could not take her eyes off the Hat. Like seeing a wood chipper in action after watching Fargo. The gods had tried to get Gold to do this to _people._ People like her. When the barrier did finally fall, it came in a great rush, the wall of invisibility falling to reveal Ingrid’s ice castle. Gold tilted the Hat back into an upright position, and the whirlpool stopped.

“Now let’s find that mirror.”

Emma nodded. “We should see what else she has. Ingrid implied that the Sorcerer not only sent her here, he told her how this whole thing was supposed to happen. Sounded almost like Mother Superior, actually. Maybe she’s left something behind that might clue us into his plan.”

His face grim, Gold nodded, and they made their way inside.


	12. Shards

The mirror was not difficult to locate. It had been given pride of place in the main chamber (Ingrid had apparently served Emma and Elsa tea in the anteroom - probably so that they would not see it).

“You were right,” Emma said to Rumplestiltskin, “She was close.”

“One piece left,” Regina said. “It’s a good thing I let Sydney go.”

“I recall that being a group effort, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin drawled.

The mirror was dispatched with no more ceremony than the barrier. When Rumplestiltskin retrieved the Hat, it was nowhere near full. _The Savior would fill it._

_Was that your plan? Have me destroy the Savior for you? I know you now, and I no longer serve you._

_Are you sure?_

He wasn’t. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

With the mirror disposed of, Emma tasked them with splitting up and searching for clues. Based on her earlier comment, Rumplestiltskin searched for traces of the Sorcerer’s magic buried under the hum of Ingrid’s ice. He felt something and followed it, finding far more than just a clue. 

“What is that?” Emma asked.

“A scroll,” Rumplestiltskin said, “From the Sorcerer. It confirms everything we suspected. And more.”

“What do you mean?” Regina asked, walking over. Elsa and Anna had moved on to the next room.

“Look at this here; this is how she installed herself in Storybrooke without your notice. And this names Emma as the Savior.”

“So the Sorcerer did sell me out,” Emma said. 

“It seems so.”

“What else does it say?”

“Let me see.” He read further. “It explains Storybrooke’s location, when Emma would arrive to break the curse…”

Something seemed off. After reading the scroll twice, carefully counting the lines, he noticed his eyes skipped over a section. A concealment spell. It was easy enough to break, and the newly revealed lines jumped out at him. _Oh. Oh, no._

_To free himself of the dagger, the Dark One must sacrifice the heart of someone who knew him before he was the Dark One._

_Malcolm!_ His curse cheerfully suggested. _Or the pirate!_

And, oh, he wanted to do it. He hated them both. On top of all they had done to him in the past, they were both responsible for Zelena getting a hold of the dagger. “Gold?” Emma asked, “You see something? You’re gonna have to help me out here, because I can’t read this.”

Regina probably couldn’t either. Even with the concealment spell removed, the scroll was written in runes. Beyond himself, Rumplestiltskin doubted anyone in town other than Anna, Elsa, Belle, and possibly Kristoff could read it. “Yes,” he said, because Emma would know a lie. 

“Well?” Regina asked sharply. His mind scrambled for an explanation that was neither truth nor lie.

Bae would want him to tell the truth.

_You kowtow to the heroes now? Follow their bidding? You’re just a slave by another name. Pathetic._

_I’ve had enough of your lies._

“There is a note about the Hat,” he admitted.

“Well, that’s promising,” Emma said. “What does it say?”

He looked at her. “To free myself of the dagger, I would have to sacrifice the heart of someone that knew me before I was the Dark One.”

Dead silence. Then Regina muttered, “So if Malcolm goes missing…”

“Don’t think I’m not tempted, dearie. But the larger question is: why is this information here? Why keep it from me and give it to Ingrid?”

Emma snapped her fingers. “To give her something to exchange for the ribbons.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “A plausible explanation.” 

“That would mean that the Sorcerer was expecting her plan to go through. Why would he want that?”

“I don’t know. Nor do I know what he will do now that it has not.”

No one else had any suggestions either. 

XxXxXxX

When they finally got home that night, even Rumple was too exhausted to cook.

“We have leftovers,” Bae said tiredly.

They had that. Belle and Bae, that is. Rumple nursed a single cup of tea and didn’t even finish it. Was this the thing that would finally break him? How much could a heart be expected to take?

And Bae. To learn that he had a son, that the gods had stolen his essence from him to create Henry… Belle could not imagine what he must be feeling. He was angry, of course, angry at the gods and angry at Rumple for keeping it from him. He at least seemed willing to talk with Rumple about it; it was actually her suggestion that they all go see Archie together that had finally calmed him down at the library. He needed his father now more than ever, and he seemed to know that. 

But it wasn’t fair, any of it. The gods had used him, had used Rumple and Emma and the rest of them, dragging them all, through deception and magic, towards some unknown end - some future where Ingrid had enacted her plan, and Rumple had succumbed once more to the darkness.

But she hadn’t, and he hadn’t. So what now? Belle didn’t know, so she pushed back thoughts of tomorrow and focused on the moment.

“What can I do for you? Either of you?” she asked them.

Bae and Rumple looked at each other and then at her. “You’ve done enough, sweetheart,” Rumple said. Bae nodded, his eyes sad.

There we’re any questions left to ask. Rumple had told them everything. About the arrests, about what he’d read on Ingrid’s scroll. And he already had plans for tomorrow; he was going to use the Hat to remove the ice barrier that still encircled the town. 

“How about a movie?” she proposed for lack of a better suggestion.

They both nodded. “Whatever you like,” Rumple said, his tone distant.

“Fine,” Bae muttered.

So they watched a movie. Wall-E was another of August’s suggestions, and they enjoyed it well enough. It was a sweet tale, and the film had clearly been made with love, as even the credits we abundant with a hopeful future and tiny, animated robots. When they had ended, none of them know what to say.

As the silence dragged on, Bae spoke first. “I’m going to bed.” He pushed himself out of the recliner, tossing the throw blanket he’d been using over the back. Rumple watched him soulfully, and it reminded Belle so much of her first few months in this house, wondering if they would ever be able to make amends.

“Good night, Bae,” Rumple said.

“Good night,” Bae muttered. Back then, there had been nights when he had not even said that.

It was something.

XxXxXxX

“Master, the Snow Queen has fallen,” the Apprentice reported. It was all going wrong. The second curse had come too soon, but his Master has instructed him on how to preserve the future, and for a time it had seemed like he had succeeded. But when the ice wall came down and dwarves were boasting all over town that Ingrid had been imprisoned and her mirror destroyed, the Apprentice knew that he had not. Certain events were expected: the Dark One’s betrayal, Ingrid’s sacrifice, and the Dark One’s banishment. They could no longer occur.

“The future has changed,” his master replied.

“What do I do?”

“The Snow Queen and her nieces have served their purpose. Let them go.”

“And the others?”

“Watch, for now. When it is time for you to act, I will call on you.”

“Yes, Master.”

XxXxXxX

“Thank you,” Wendy said, “For everything.” She was leaving. Her brothers had packed the red convertible, and with the barrier removed, they were anxious to get out of Storybrooke. Bae couldn’t blame them.

“I’m the one who should thank you,” he said. “You took me in when you had no reason to. You saved my life.”

She smiled. “You sacrificed yourself for us.” 

“And you sacrificed yourself for me.”

She shook her head ruefully; they’d debated those facts more than once, and Bae had never been able to convince her. “I’ll e-mail you when we get to Boston,” she said.

“I thought you were going back to London?”

“Eventually. John and Michael want to make sure Pan doesn’t have any more agents out there.”

“Thank you,” he said to them. 

“Please let us know if we can help at all,” Belle said. “And remember that you are always welcome here.”

“Will they be able to...?” Bae asked his father. They’d barely spoken since Ingrid had been captured, both waiting anxiously for their first appointment with Archie.

“Yes,” he said. “I replaced Ingrid’s barrier with another, identical to the one I erected before Regina reversed the last curse. It will keep strangers out, but anyone who has been on this side of the town line will be able to pass back and forth freely.”

“OK.” 

Silence. Wendy smiled again, sadly, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Baelfire.”

“You too.”

She waved cheerfully as she got into the car. He watched them drive away until they took the turn out of town and he could no longer see them. And then he stared at the road. “Bae?” Belle eventually asked softly.

He turned towards the library. “We can go.”

“OK.”

They were half way there when he said, “I should work on my math today.”

“Would you like some help?” Belle asked.

He didn’t know why, but he said, “Actually… Papa?”

In front of him, his father stopped and stared at him. “You want…?”

Bae shrugged. “If you want.”

Papa looked like he might cry. “Of course I do.”

“OK,” Bae said. They started walking.

XxXxXxX

It was cold, but Ruby had gone for a run on the beach. The town was celebrating the collapse of the ice wall (the villain defeated in less then a week? Emma was getting good at this), but she still felt trapped. She knew that most of the peasantry was happy to be back on Earth, with its indoor plumbing, television, and democracy, but Ruby hadn’t been a peasant since the day she had learned what she was.

She was a werewolf, and she did not belong in this world.

As the weather had turned, even Anton had had to give up trying to grow magic beans for the season. He’d thought he’d manage to salvage a plant back when the second curse first started, but the bean that had been growing had withered and died, and nothing had come of it since. 

Back then, everyone’s concern had been escaping Zelena. And then Ingrid. Now that the wall had been taken down, there were rumblings about leaving town (the Darlings already had), people talking about how the next witch would be no threat in the world beyond the town line. But for Ruby, that was no escape.

She needed magic. She needed her people. Snow had found her happy ending, and all around her, Ruby’s friends were drawing closer to families and lovers. But not her. Granny was her only family, and she would not be around forever. No lover could take the place of Peter, and she was too afraid of repeating history to let them try.

She needed escape, and so she ran.

She stumbled when her foot hit something hard. “What the hell?” It was a bottle. “Ugh.” _Assholes drinking on the beach. At least pick up after yourselves!_

Not wanting someone else trip on the thing - or, worse, for a kid to cut themselves if it broke - Ruby pulled the bottle out of the sand. “What…?”

_A message in a bottle?_ And now that she looked for it, it felt like magic. Ruby turned and sprinted towards the road; Gold had to see this.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin did not know what Bae was thinking. He’d expected to be back where they’d been after Regina’s curse had broken, only with one more hurt, one more betrayal to contend with. But Bae was talking to him. True, they did focus on the old standby - his schoolwork - but Bae was legitimately behind from two months of neglect preceded by a school year that had never happened. 

Perhaps it was Belle. No, Rumplestiltskin was sure it was Belle. Bae had been wary of her then, but now she was his mother in all but name. She’d told him of how much they had relied on each other while he had been in Zelena’s thrall, and if there was anything that could bring him comfort about that time, it was knowing that.

But things were not mended, and Rumplestiltskin did not know how to mend them. They had an appointment to see Dr. Hopper the next day, but Rumplestiltskin did not know how much good that would do. This was no simple misunderstanding, it was a betrayal, one he had engaged in knowingly.

They looked up when the shop bell rang. Like most unexpected sounds these days, it made Rumplestiltskin start and his heart race. He only hoped it was not Emma reporting that Malcolm had escaped. 

“Gold!” the younger werewolf said, plopping a glass bottle with message inside onto the counter, “I found this on the beach. It’s magic.”

Belle emerged from the back, greeting their guest, “Ruby. How are you?”

“Hey, Belle. Same old, same old. I found something on the beach.”

“Indeed you did,” Rumplestiltskin said, picking it up carefully. The wolf was right; it was magic - the Sorcerer’s magic to be precise. 

“Any idea what it is? It looks like a message in a bottle.”

“That is exactly what it is. This bottle is enchanted. It’s the Sorcerer’s magic.”

“Whoa,” she said. 

Bae took a step back. “Can you tell what kind of enchantment it is?” Belle asked.

“Yes. It’s enchanted to find the person to which the letter inside is addressed.” He took the bottle by the neck and opened it.

“Is that a good idea?” Bae asked trepidatiously.

“I sense no other enchantments. And I believe this letter may help us determine just want the Sorcerer’s endgame is.” He pulled out the letter and read it. _Indeed._

“What does it say?” Belle asked.

“It’s addressed to Elsa and Anna, from their mother.”

“Their mother? Their mother drowned nearly forty years ago in another realm,” Bae said.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Hence why the Sorcerer had to intervene to ensure it arrived here and now.”

“What does it say?” Belle asked. He handed it to her. 

“If I am not mistaken, the Sorcerer does not intend it for Anna or Elsa at all, but for Ingrid.”

Belle read it quickly, her blue eyes darting across the page. She looked up. “Gerda loved her after all.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “It seems so. I believe I have some calls to make.”

XxXxXxX

“This is a trick,” Ingrid insisted. “The Dark One has deceived you.” She slid her eyes over to Gold, who was standing in the corner, his hand folded primly over the top of his cane.

Emma held the letter out to her. “One way to find out. That memory stone - is that something that can be faked?”

She snatched the letter up, reading it before looking at the seal on the bottom. “It’s real,” Anna insisted. “That is out mother’s handwriting. If you knew her, you should know that.” She seemed to think this could ‘save’ Ingrid. Emma had her doubts.

Ingrid glared at Anna, then extended her finger over the stone, hesitant to touch it. Flexing her hand a couple of times, she finally did, gasping as the air shimmered around her. She brought her hands to her face and began to cry. “They loved me. They really loved me.”

If Emma’s superpower were not telling her that Ingrid was sincere, she would not have believed it. _That’s it? Thirty plus years stalking us and that’s all it takes?_ “Where?” Ingrid begged Gold, “Where did you find this?”

“I didn’t. Miss Lucas did; she found it on the beach in an enchanted bottle. It’s the Sorcerer’s magic. If you needed further proof that he was using you, dearie, I think you have it. You’ve failed your mission, and so he is done with you.”

“I… I don’t believe you.”

Gold shrugged and conjured the bottle, setting it on the table. “See for yourself.”

She picked it up, examining it furiously. She set it down with a thunk. “Why? Why would he do this?”

“We were hoping you could help us with that,” Emma said. “Just what did the Sorcerer say to you?” Ingrid looked to her, uncomprehending. 

“Please,” Elsa said, “The Sorcerer has something planned for Emma, something that involves her blood tainted by darkness. If you care about her, please tell us.”

“I… I never spoke with the Sorcerer, only the Apprentice. He told me about Emma, that she was my sister. He gave me a scroll with instructions-”

“We found it,” Emma said. “There’s something in there about Gold needing a heart to use the Hat; do you know why the Apprentice would want you to know that?”

“I thought… I was going to trade that for the ribbons.” She looked at Gold. “The ribbons, where are they?”

“Consumed by the Hat,” Gold said, “Like your barriers and the mirror.”

“That’s what we suspected,” Emma said to Gold. He nodded. “Anything else? Did the Apprentice mention anything else? Did he tell you how to find me out there? The scroll only mentioned Storybrooke.”

“No. I didn’t know where to look. I looked for allies, but… their magic was false. So I started with Storybrooke. I heard the story about the baby found by the side of the road, and I knew it was you; I had to arrange the rest myself.”

“That seems like leaving a lot to chance,” Emma muttered.

“Unless he - or the gods - were arranging things behind the scenes. Remember that Reul Ghorm was also in play,” Gold said.

“She was?” Ingrid asked. “What did she do?”

“She got August to send Emma to jail,” Anna blurted out before Emma could tell Ingrid it was none of her business.

“She… you’re sure? It was her?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emma said.

“Please,” Ingrid said, “Please, I want to help. Tell me what she’s done.”

Emma held up a hand to cut off Anna’s “helpful” rambling. “You first. You’ve got the pieces we haven’t been able to add to the puzzle yet. Tell us everything the Apprentice said, word for word if you can. And everything you did.”

Emma took a seat and pulled out a notebook. Elsa sat next to her, and Anna sat on the table. Gold stayed in the corner, absorbing every word.


	13. More Questions, More Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains spoilers for Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” Ingrid cried when her story was finished, “I’m so sorry.”

“The Sorcerer used you,” Elsa assured her. “Just as he has used so many.” She hadn’t been sure until this moment that Ingrid could truly be saved. _I should remember to listen to Anna._

“I have some questions,” Rumplestiltskin said, stepping out of the corner.

“Yes?” Ingrid asked, wiping away her tears. 

“How much time have you spent in Malcolm’s company since your alliance?”

“More than I’d like,” Ingrid said wryly. Rumplestiltskin smiled slightly.

“Did he discuss his plans with you?”

“He planned to take the dagger. No, that’s not how he said it… he said that he’d have you so tied up I knots that you’ve give it to him willingly. He asked me to leave those strange dolls near your shop, but never explained what they were or what he planned to do next.”

“Did he mention the Truest Believer?” Emma asked.

“No, who is that?”

“Henry,” Anna said. “I don’t really understand all of it, but-”

“Anna,” Elsa said warningly. 

“Your Henry?” Ingrid asked Emma.

Emma held up a hand. “Don’t. You want to help us, fine, but you were willing to kill him along with the rest of the town; do not act like to care about him now.”

“Emma,” Anna objected, but Ingrid only nodded.

“You’re right,” she said. “I was going to take you family from you in order to build one for myself. You have every reason to hate me.”

“Right,” Emma said. “Moving on. So teaming up was Malcolm’s idea?”

Ingrid nodded. “He offered, I accepted. But I never trusted him.”

“Wise,” Rumplestiltskin said dryly.

“He did tell me that he was your father,” she told him. He only nodded.

“Did he say anything else?” Emma asked.

“He was interested in the scroll the Sorcerer gave me, but I don’t know if it was just curiosity, or if he knew how significant it was.”

“If he had, he would have stolen it,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“Perhaps,” Ingrid admitted. 

“And you’ve received no other contact from the Sorcerer or the Apprentice?” Emma asked. 

“Once more,” Ingrid said. “When the first curse was reversed, I appeared in the Endless Forest, alone. I thought that the Apprentice had lied to me, that I had lost my chance to be with Emma. But he came to me and told me that everything was unfolding as it was meant to, and that there would be a second curse. So I build a small palace and waited.”

Emma looked at Rumplestiltskin. “He knew.”

“What I don’t understand is how that prediction could be correct when his later ones were so wrong,” Ingrid said.

“That’s a good question,” Emma agreed. “Any ideas, Gold?”

“No prediction can be inviolate,” Rumplestiltskin said, “Or else free will could not exist. It seems that David and Snow made their choices according to the Sorcerer’s prediction, but sometime after that, different choices were made.”

“You,” Anna said. “You didn’t use the Hat. You know, on people. Not that you would-”

“I would,” Rumplestiltskin said. “I would have, if not for Belle and Bae.”

“And according to Mother Superior…” Emma said thoughtfully, “Bae was not supposed to be here.”

“What do you mean?” Rumplestiltskin asked sharply.

“Nate. Think about it, why was Bae supposed to be Henry’s father? That seems so random. Yes, you have magic, but you weren’t born with it - you didn’t even have it when Bae was born - it’s not genetic. Why Bae? What if that was the prediction: that Bae was supposed to get to Earth some other way, become Nate, and meet me? But then Regina sends the curse after Tink, it grabs Bae instead, and everything get knocked off course.”

“But why would the gods allow that to happen?” Ingrid asked. “Why would the curse allow that to happen?”

Rumplestiltskin began to pace, his eyes worried. “It shouldn’t have. I’ve been wondering that ever since Regina admitted that she sent it after Tinker Bell. We have speculated that two factions of gods may be at odds with one another… that would explain it. And now we have motive. If one faction intended for me to use the Hat and battle the Sorcerer, perhaps a second decided to intervene?”

“But the Sorcerer is the one who was setting you up,” Emma said, “Why would he be on the side that creates his own competition?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh!” Anna said, “It could be like that book! What was it? Good… Good something. The final battle between good and evil. They wanted it to happen, the god and the evil god, but not the people in the middle. It was, like, fate - proving which side was strongest. Not that I’m saying you’re evil or anything,” she assured Rumplestiltskin. “I know you’re not. But they were trying to make you evil, like they were trying to make the Antichrist do things, and he was just a kid…”

“Good Omens,” Emma said. “August tuned Nova on to that one.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “And what is the Dark One except the Sorcerer’s foil? His ‘antichrist’ as it were?” 

“You think the gods want to bring about the end of the world?” Emma asked horrified.

“Not the world,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Remember that no one pantheon rules any realm entirely on their own. But the current balance between dark and light magic? It’s possible, quite possible. We may be looking at a coup, Miss Swan.” He locked eyes with her.

“And all us mere mortals are just... what? Solders? Pieces on a board?”

He nodded. “And even us immortals,” he added dryly.

Emma massaged her forehead. “God damn.”

“Literally.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “So what do we do? And how does the Author play into it?”

“The Author is the wild card. He can reset the board, so to speak. As for what we do… I believe you and I are in the same boat. As long as neither one of us succumbs to our darker urges, the conflict cannot advance. ”

“Just like the book!” Anna said excitedly. “The Antichrist refused to choose Heaven or Hell - he chose humanity.”

“And the apocalypse was canceled,” Emma said. “Sounds good to me.”

“If the gods allow it,” Rumplestiltskin warned.

“Can they force us? I thought part of the point was free will.”

“It is. But they can apply… pressure. Or send agents to do it.” He looked at Ingrid.

“Do you think… they intended for me to corrupt Emma?” she asked in dismay.

“You didn’t,” Anna assured her. “You stopped.”

“Because we worked together,” Emma said, looking at Gold. “I guess Bae was right.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “I find that he often is.”

“What else can I do to help?” Ingrid asked urgently.

“Information. It’s all coming down to that, isn’t it?” Emma said, looking back at her notes. 

“I’ve told you everything I know,” Ingrid insisted.

“What about Maleficent?” Emma asked, “Did she catch up with you?”

“Maleficent… the fallen fairy? We have never met. What does she have to do with this?”

“She went looking for you, dearie, hoping to arrange a meeting with the Apprentice. She had not been heard from since,” Rumplestiltskin explained.

“When was this?”

“Before the second curse. If you were in the Endless Forest, that explains why she could not find you.”

“So where is she?” Emma asked him.

“If I were a betting man, I would put my money on the Apprentice either detaining her somewhere or sending her the Earth as she wanted. He was likely also the one who shielded her and Ingrid from Regina’s crystal ball; Ingrid would not have known to protect herself from that.”

“That’s right,” Ingrid said. “I had no idea anyone was looking for me. I was just supposed to wait.”

“Do you think the Apprentice is here, in Storybrooke?” Emma asked.

“If he is not, he can travel here easily enough.”

“Think we can draw him out? Let him know we aren’t playing, so this crap has to stop?”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “While I admire your optimism, no, I do not believe that a direct confrontation would benefit us. And recall that we have been seeking him and the Sorcerer since Mr. Booth told us about his encounter with him. They will not be found unless they wish to be found.”

“So that’s it? You and I don’t go evil; that’s all we can do?”

“Not necessarily. I am interested in why the Sorcerer sent this message now. Ingrid was already defeated; what does this change?”

“Well, you’re going to let her out, right?” Anna asked. Emma and Rumplestiltskin looked at her. “What? She’s helping now!”

“If the Sorcerer’s intention was that I be let go, perhaps it would be best if I stayed right here,” Ingrid offered. “It’s not the first prison I have lived in. Or the worst, for that matter,” she said with a small smile.

“Perhaps,” Rumplestiltskin said. “But that would tell us nothing of the Sorcerer’s plan. If we were to release you, what would you do?”

“Oh,” Ingrid said. “I suppose… I would try to find a way back to Arendale, to lift the ice curse.”

“Perhaps it bears checking in on Arendale.” Rumplestiltskin conjured a large mirror, and Elsa watched as he summoned a view of the palace. She was expecting it to still be frozen through, but that is not what they saw. Everything was exactly as it should be, the grass green, people walking in the courtyard. Rumplestiltskin changed the image to the courtyard only, revealing…

“Hans!” Anna yelled, jumping up off the table. He and several of his brothers were loading up a cart of gold from the treasury. “We have to get back!” Anna said.

Elsa stood up. “We do. Is there a way?” she asked Rumplestiltskin. “We could not find the means to escape Zelena, but we didn’t have your help.”

“Even if you can,” Emma said, “Is it a good idea? Seems like the Sorcerer wants you there. Or Ingrid there, anyway.”

“It’s our kingdom!” Anna said, “Our people. We can’t just leave Hans in charge. I mean, I did, but that was just for a couple of days, and I didn’t know what he was like then. And he was my fiancé…”

“Anna is right,” Elsa said. “We have to go back, even if it is what the Sorcerer wills. Can you do it?” she asked Rumplestiltskin.

“No, but the Sorcerer can, and if this is part of his plan, I believe it will be simple indeed.”

XxXxXxX

It was. Far too simple. Rumplestiltskin found the portal in a matter of minutes, sitting bold as you please in an empty room off the library. The Council was notified, and David and Mary Margaret agreed to retrieve Kristoff (and a number of items from the apartment that Anna wanted to take back with them). Most of the others insisted on rushing over for a very sudden goodbye. As they waited for them, Anna, Elsa, Rumplestiltskin, Emma, Belle, and Bae examined the portal.

“Was it there this whole time?” Anna asked Rumplestiltskin. “Because we have been all over this house, and none of us found anything. Not me, or Elsa, or Regina, or Nova, or you…”

“It may have only been disguised,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Or else it was conjured once you decided to return. In any case, this is your way home. The question is: will you take Ingrid with you?”

“Yes,” Anna said, at the same time as Elsa spoke.

“No.”

“Elsa,” Anna pleaded, “She’s family. We can’t just leave her in jail. She doesn’t do well in jail.”

“If not for the Sorcerer, I would agree with you, but it could be a trap of some kind for Emma or Rumplestiltskin.”

“Then we get rid of Hans and then we come back here to help them,” Anna said practically.

“Would the portal allow that?” Bae asked.

“It will if the Sorcerer wills it so,” Rumplestiltskin answered because he didn’t know. The truth was that he did not know what role Ingrid had left to play in this, and every unanswered question only added to the clutter in his mind. Perhaps it was the same for the Sorcerer. “I wonder if his only intention here is to rid Storybrooke of extraneous variables.”

“More people, more free will, and the more complicated it is for him to keep it in check?” Emma asked.

“If I had to hazard a guess,” he said with a shrug. He would share what he knew with the Savior, yes, but he would never let her see how these invisible manipulations made his heart shrivel with fear. He wondered if she knew anyway. Belle looked at him from the corner of her eye. She knew.

“Do you think you can handle her?” Emma asked Elsa. “Once that cuff comes off, she’ll be dangerous again.”

“How sincere do you think she is?” Elsa asked her. 

“Right now? Completely. She had no idea she was being used, and that letter… fastest villain turn around ever, but she did mean it. But the question is: will that be enough? She changed once on a dime; she could do it again.”

“She’s family,” Anna insisted. “We’re not going to turn our backs on her.”

“And that may be it,” Emma said, rubbing her forehead. “If you do leave her behind, that could be what sends her off the deep end.”

“Then we’ve decided,” Anna said. “Someone will have to pick her up from the hospital…” She pulled out her phone. “Hey, do you think we could make phones work in Arendale? I mean, not with towers, obviously, but magic? Magic phone calls? That would have been really helpful when I went on my trip to Misthaven.”

“I will retrieve Ingrid when it is time,” Rumplestiltskin said, if only to speed the process along. Anna smiled at him gratefully.

Elsa answered her other question. “We have mirrors,” she reminded her sister. “I know how to do that now, remember?” 

“Oh, right!”

The conversation lulled after that, as they waited for the others to arrive. Elsa broke the silence. She turned to Rumplestiltskin. “I never got to ask you about the effect your curse had on my magic. I think I’m managing better now, but I was hoping…” She squared her shoulders. “It’s just me, isn’t it? My own darkness, like the Blue Fairy said.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Perhaps the most troublesome thing about Reul Ghorm is that, sometimes, she really does tell the truth. Once the curse has left you, all that remains is yourself; it is your own darkness for you to master.”

Elsa nodded, gripping her fingers nervously. “I understand.”

“You already have,” Anna said, uncharacteristically calm. She touched her sister’s arm. “You fought Zelena and did not lose control. You have mastered it.” Elsa only nodded, smiling anxiously.

The others began to arrive. The puppet and Tinker Bell, followed by Leroy and Nova and other assorted dwarves. Dove. Granny and Ruby. Ruby carried a backpack. “Going on a trip?” Rumplestiltskin asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I want to go with you,” she told the sisters. Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. To his knowledge, the werewolf had not been particularly close to either of them.

“Um… OK,” Anna said indelicately. “Why?”

Ruby exchanged a significant look with her grandmother and answered, “Because I don’t belong in this world. I need to find others like me. I’ll help you defeat Hans, and then I can take a ship to the Enchanted Forest. There has to be a pack out there for me.”

“Of course,” Elsa said kindly. “We can arrange passage for you.”

“Ruby…” Belle said. They were friends, Rumplestiltskin knew, but after Regina’s curse had been reversed, Red had spent most of her time away from the palace. Rumplestiltskin had not noticed at the time, but they had grown apart. Knowing Belle, she now blamed herself for that. He took her hand.

“Please, Belle…” Ruby said.

She smiled. “Good luck.” And that was Belle: self-sacrificing, always. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

“For your old pack to escape both curses, they must have moved out of the Enchanted Forest,” Rumplestiltskin offered. 

“Any idea where they went?” she asked.

“Sorry, no. But there is a kingdom near Camelot known for shape-shifting magic. Bears, not wolves, but it could have interested them. And it has a lot of wild land.”

“What’s the name?” she asked hopefully.

“DunBroch.”

She smirked. “And what’s that going to cost me?”

“Gratis,” he said, smirking in return. Belle leaned against him, smiling.

There were hugs and farewells. Nova thanked Ruby for how she’d helped her acclimate to her life after leaving the convent. The dwarf gave her a stern handshake, and then a slap on the back. Emma wished her luck, and then the whole scene became even more emotional as Mary Margaret arrived with David and Kristoff. 

Tears flowed on both sides, and in the drama of it all Rumplestiltskin could not help but admire Granny Lucas. She sent off her only family with only a gruff gesture of affection and not a single tear. Rumplestiltskin looked at Bae, and he knew there would come a time (far sooner than he wanted) that his boy would have to leave his home and start an independent life, and although Rumplestiltskin dearly hoped that life would be across town rather than in another realm, he knew that even then he would not handle it half as well.

Tears were dried, farewells said, and Elsa gave Nova the Book for safekeeping (they were sure to hear from Regina about that later). Rumplestiltskin tuned to Elsa. “You’re ready, then?” She nodded. Rumplestiltskin waved his hand and summoned Ingrid from her cell.

“You found it?” she asked. “Oh.” Noticing the crowd, she went very still.

“They’re here to see us off,” Elsa told her. “Ruby will be coming with us.” 

Ingrid nodded. “Oh. Very well.”

“Your wrist, please,” Rumplestiltskin said, reaching out a hand.

Ingrid looked at him and then at her nieces. “You’re releasing my powers?”

“That cuff belongs to me,” Rumplestiltskin said, “I’m not about to let you abscond with it.” The dwarf snorted.

Ingrid wrapped a hand around her wrist and stared at him, awed. _Fastest villain turn around ever, indeed._ Slowly, she released her wrist and held it out to him. “I thought you were a monster,” she said softly.

“I was. As you were. The question is: what are we now?” _Well that was rather unnecessarily sentimental, wasn’t it?_ But she smiled. He took the cuff.

“If we can’t make it back,” Elsa said, “I just wanted to thank you. All of you; you’ve done so much for us. Rumplestiltskin… you taught me so much about my powers; you taught me how do things I never thought I could so. And Emma…” Oh, Rumplestiltskin recognized that look. It was a shame that Elsa’s feelings were not reciprocated; he’d much rather have Elsa hanging about than the pirate. Emma hugged back a bit stiffly as Elsa embraced her, perhaps a trifle confused by the outpouring of emotion. “Thank you,” was all Elsa said before drawing back.

“It’s what we do,” Emma said. 

There was a chorus of farewells, several more hugs, and Elsa, smiling, waved and turned to the portal. She looked back once, then nodded and resolutely walked through.

Ingrid looked at Emma with new eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “And I am sorry. If you ever need my help…”

“Yeah,” Emma said, nodding. “Go on. There’s a coup going on of the other side of that portal.” Ingrid smiled but did not attempt an embrace. She followed her niece.

Anna, of course, took her round of hugs, finally ending up in front of Rumplestiltskin. “I know you don’t like to hug, so…” She extended her hand.

He shook it. “Farewell,” he said. She was exhausting, but she’d been kinder than he had any right to expect, and he appreciated that she had not insisted on hugging him. In his experience, outgoing people were not always so considerate. “Once you have all gone through, immediately try to return. It would help to know if the Sorcerer intends to allow that.”

“Right.”

Kristoff waved and walked through the portal, Anna on his heels. Ruby went last. After she stepped through, the portal turned dark. Rumplestiltskin stepped forward and tried to push through. He could not. “Well,” he said. “That answers that.”


	14. Bold Words

“So,” Archie said, “Can you tell me why you are here?” He addressed the question to Bae, who had already begin to pick at his sleeve and refused to look up. Rumplestiltskin held his cane in front of him, toying with the handle in a similar manner. Belle sat next to him, but had taken her own corner of the couch. Archie did not think she was avoiding Rumplestiltskin but rather intended to communicate to Bae that she would not take sides.

“My father lied to me. _Again_ ,” Bae said.

“About Henry’s parentage?” 

“Yes. And the Hat. But that was, maybe, three days? He lied about Nate for over a year, and he never meant to tell me; he admitted that.”

Archie looked at Rumplestiltskin. His head was lowered in guilt, with no trace of defensiveness. “Do you perceive Bae’s description as accurate?” Archie asked him.

He nodded grimly. “Yes. I was aware at the time that he would want to know, but when Miss Swan asked me to lie, I went along with it, and gladly.”

“Why?”

“Why else?” Bae asked in exasperation. “He was trying to ‘protect’ me.”

“Is that accurate?”

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin admitted.

“Would you do it again?”

“Knowing what I know now? Obviously not. But in another circumstance, with only the knowledge I had at that time? I can’t say I wouldn’t.”

“At least you admit it,” Bae said, slumping back in his chair. 

“Yes,” Archie said, “And that’s important. It can be very difficult, to admit something that.”

Rumplestiltskin looked at him, confused. In Archie’s experience, many of his family therapy patients came in either expecting him to take their side or to back their family members against them; clearly Rumplestiltskin had expected Archie to back Bae. It was a struggle, sometimes, to explain that it was his job to remain as impartial as possible. “I know that the three of you have discussed the issue of keeping secrets before,” Archie continued, “At that time, do you think this is something you would have been able to admit?” 

“No…” Rumplestiltskin said softly.

“Bae, do you agree with that?”

“I… well, he didn’t did he? So, yeah, that’s a no.”

“Do you consider this progress, then?” Bae and Rumplestiltskin looked at each other, and Archie felt encouraged by the dawning hope he saw between them.

Bae threw himself back into his chair. “But what good is it, if he’s just going to do it again?” he asked helplessly. Rumplestiltskin bit his lip.

“Rumplestiltskin, can you explain why you thought withholding this information would protect Baelfire?”

“I… did not want him to know that he had been used in this way, or to feel that it obligated him to anything. He’s already been through so much…”

“I already knew I’d been used, remember? Everything that Reul Ghorm did, we knew that.”

“But this… Bae, they stole your _essence_.”

“So? You think that was worse than Neverland?”

Rumplestiltskin blinked at him, clearly having thought so. “Does it surprise you, that Bae feels this way?” Archie asked.

“Well… yes. I thought…”

“Right,” Bae said, “ _You_ thought. Maybe let _me_ decide how a feel. Oh, wait, you’d have to tell me these things first.”

The skin around Rumplestiltskin’s eyes tensed, perhaps in preparation for tears. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Now Belle did take Rumplestiltskin’s hand, rubbing it encouragingly.

“The next time something like this occurs, do you think you would be able to keep that in mind?” Archie asked him. “Your feelings are understandable. When Bae was small, it was your job to protect him from certain truths that he was not mature enough to handle. But Bae is nearly an adult now; the dynamic between you has changed. That can be challenging for any parent, but particularly for parents and children who have been separated for a long time.” 

Rumplestiltskin looked at him like he could not quite process what he was hearing. This was not the first time that Archie had seen such an expression on his face. During the time he had lost his memories of being the Dark One, he’d been similarly baffled by overtures of friendship and consideration. From what Archie knew, “I hear you” was not something Rumplestiltskin had heard often at any point in his life.

“I… will attempt to keep that in mind,” he said, looking once more at his cane. 

Archie looked at Bae. “Do you have more you want to say on this subject?”

Bae shook his head, biting at the corner of one of his nails. “Can we talk about the Hat, then? I gather your reasons for that were different,” Archie said.

“I panicked,” Rumplestiltskin said bluntly. “The Sorcerer had clearly left it for me to find, and I did not know why. I became convinced that the gods intended for me to use it, and my curse…” He trailed off

“Your curse?” Archie prodded. Bae and Belle both looked at Rumplestiltskin, concerned.

“It had its own agenda. I’ve always known that, of course, but recently… it wasn’t separate from my own mind before… at least I didn’t think it was, but now… it wanted me to do it. I tried to convince me that the gods’ will could not be circumvented.”

“It talks to you?” Bae asked.

“In some ways it always has, the memories for the other Dark Ones… carefully selected, I now know. But it is more distinct, now, yes.” He admitted this as if he expected to be called out once more for keeping secrets. While it would be understandable of Bae to be upset about yet another example of this behavior, Archie hoped that it would not come to that. Rumplestiltskin seemed to understand now that he needed to be more forthright, but if he were punished every time he revealed a secret, he’d be less likely to continue on that path.

Bae said nothing. “How long has this been the case?” Archie probed. Perhaps this was a discussion more suited to an individual session, but the curse’s effect on Rumplestiltskin had to be extremely relevant to the family dynamic.

“It began… after I took it back. It’s become more clear since then.”

Unexpectedly, Belle smiled. “Rumple, don’t you see? You’re rejecting it. It could masquerade as your own thoughts before, but now that you don’t enjoy hurting people, it can’t hide from you.”

“I think that is an overly generous interpretation, my dear,” he said.

“Why?” Archie asked.

Rumplestiltskin addressed his response to Belle. “You always see more goodness in me than is really there, Sweetheart…”

“No, I don’t! I know there’s darkness in you, Rumple; I’ve never said there wasn’t. But look how far you’ve come! I knew you could, and you did.”

“I believe we are here because I didn’t.”

“You kept secrets because you were scared; that’s not dark, Rumple, that’s human.” He looked away.

“Do you disagree?” Archie asked him.

“Intent in meaningless,” he said.

“Is it? As I understand it, in magic the specific emotion behind a spell is extremely important. Do I have that right?”

Belle hid a smile as Rumplestiltskin admitted, “You do.” 

Archie continued. “It’s clear that you all love each other very much, and you’re willing to work on improving your relationship. I’ve been getting the impression that you want to be more open with Bae and Belle, but fear holds you back. Am I wrong?”

“What I want doesn’t matter, only what I do,” Rumplestiltskin said. 

“You’re mistaken,” Archie said gently. “What you want does matter; it is in fact central to this process. I can direct you to studies that demonstrate how our attitudes influence our behavior; would you like to see some of them? I think you may find some parallels to the practice of magic.”

_That_ caught him off guard. He looked at Archie, bewildered. Belle squeezed his hand and asked, “You do want to be more open, don’t you, Rumple?”

“Yes, I…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Wanting something does not make it so. I never wanted to be a coward, but that is what I am. Even you cannot deny that, Belle.”

“I _do_ deny that! A coward does not hold on to hope for three hundred years! A coward does not do everything in his power to apologize to his son when he does not know that he will be forgiven. I coward would not have agreed to give up the power of the Dark One. A coward would not have-” her voice broke, “-given the dagger to Cora to save us. And a coward would not get up every day, after everything you’ve been through, and keep trying. You’re not a coward, Rumple; I wish I’d never called you that.” She took a tissue from the box on the side table and dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose. Rumplestiltskin had begun to cry too, but he did not move.

“It’s not a useful word,” Bae said, his feet pulled up into his chair. “You said that,” he added, pointing to Archie.

“I did. If someone is acting out of fear, labeling them a coward achieves nothing except to convince them that the problem is intrinsic to themselves, and thus unsolvable. The actual solution is to help them cope with their fear. And on a personal note, I’ve witnessed children and grown men alike use accusations of cowardice to spur each other to engage in destructive and even violent behavior. I don’t think it’s a useful word at all.”

Smiling wetly, Belle pulled Rumplestiltskin’s pocket square from his jacket and handed it to him. Robotically, he wiped his face and blew his nose. There was something more than surreal about seeing the Dark One as vulnerable as this. The fact that he was willing to let Archie see it in order to improve things with his family was perhaps the most encouraging thing. Belle was right; Rumplestiltskin was no coward.

Archie gave him a moment to gather himself, then followed up on his initial question. “Do you have any other reason to believe that your new awareness of your curse is related to anything other than a change in your own motivations?”

Rumplestiltskin took some care refolding his pocket square as he considered the question. “It was very eager for me to use the Hat. When I accused it of attempting to manipulate me into doing so, it went quiet. I do wonder if it is speaking up more now because it has always planned for this.” 

“So it does talk to you?” Bae asked, “Like someone else in your head?”

“Sometimes,” Rumplestiltskin said, still looking down.

Belle put her hand on his wrist, and he put his other hand over hers. “We can break it,” she said. “The Kiss will free you.”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin said hastily. Following up quickly with, “I don’t think the gods will allow it.”

“Can they stop the Kiss?” Belle asked.

“I don’t know, but they can certainly resurrect the curse once it’s been broken. Even I didn’t know that was possible. I don’t know how Zelena could have, unless that information was provided to her.”

“Too many coincidences,” Bae said.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Exactly.”

“We can leave Storybrooke,” Belle suggested. “Your curse will go dormant once you cross the town line, won’t it?”

“At this point? I truly don’t know. It may have been speaking to me the whole time, I simply could not recognize it. And I…”

“Yes?”

“I…” Rumplestiltskin glanced a Bae.

“No more secrets,” Belle said kindly. “Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

“I need it. For now.” He glanced at Bae, again, expecting, perhaps, rage or condemnation, but Bae only nodded, resigned.

“Why?” Belle asked him.

“You know the answer to that,” he said quietly.

“You haven’t been eating or sleeping.” He nodded, and Archie took note of it. 

Realistically, it was extremely likely that Rumplestiltskin would develop some form of PTSD from his time as Zelena’s captive. Archie had already noticed some jumpiness and hyperawareness of his surroundings, but he had not known that Rumplestiltskin was hiding such profound physical symptoms. It was too early a diagnosis, but the sooner the possibility was addressed, the better. “Can you talk about that?” Archie asked, “Or would that be more suited to an individual session?” 

Rumplestiltskin looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re allowed to say ‘no’,” Archie said. “You’ve experienced a severe trauma. It’s understandable if you’re not ready to talk about it.”

“We’re here because I was not forthright,” he said carefully.

“Being more forthright does not mean that you must relinquish your privacy completely. Information that directly affects your family needs to be shared, but processing trauma is about the individual. Would you be willing to see me privately?”

Bae looked at his father hopefully. Belle smiled and stroked his hands. “Please try, Rumple. I’m worried about you. We both are.”

He bowed his head, and Archie saw more defeat in his posture than he felt comfortable with, but Rumplestiltskin said, “All right.”

Archie smiled at him. “Excellent. I can make an appointment with you after this session.”

Smiling, Belle rubbed Rumplestiltskin’s shoulder. “Thank you, Rumple. That was brave.” He watched her, disbelieving. No one spoke, and the rising tension in the room called for a change of subject.

“With the number of crises and traumas your family has experienced, I believe it is especially important that the three of you spend quality time together,” Archie said, “Can you tell me the kinds of things you have been doing since you got back?”

“Schoolwork,” Bae said immediately, sheepishly admitting, “I’m way behind. And movies. And Monopoly, once.” Rumplestiltskin smiled enigmatically.

“And how did that go?”

“Fine?” Bae asked, looking at his father and Belle. They nodded. “Fine.”

“That’s excellent. Fun is important, and it’s easy to forget that. I strongly recommend that you continue to take the time to do these things together. Belle, I haven’t heard much from you. Do you have anything you want to say about anything we’ve discussed so far?”

“Just that I’m very proud of both of you,” she said to Rumplestiltskin and Bae. They both ducked their heads, and for a moment, the resemblance was uncanny.

“I am too,” Archie agreed. “All three of you. It’s not often that everyone in a family is willing to work at this the way you are.”

“You think it will get better, then?” Bae asked shyly.

“Bae, I am certain of it.”

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t expected the session to go as well as it did. He also didn’t expect to be roped into individual sessions, but he could hardly refuse when Belle had begged him like that. After it was over, they returned to the shop, and Rumplestiltskin felt his gut clench, half-expecting to find another doll waiting outside. There was nothing.

They went inside, Belle smiling and flittering around like a songbird. Rumplestiltskin looked outside at the gray, November sky. He’d missed the entire summer. 

_They’ll be other summers._

He wanted to do something for Belle. They’d be lost without her; he knew that for a fact. He caught her wrist playfully as she hurried by him, a duster in her hand. “Yes?” she asked coyly.

“Thank you,” he said, at a loss for any other words.

“Oh, Rumple.” She put the duster down and touched his face lightly. She’d figured out by now that running her hand through his hair or, especially, caressing his jaw caused him to tense up. She’d never asked about it, but that didn’t matter when she knew why. He didn’t know how she could bear to touch him. “I meant what I said today. I’m so proud of the both of you. How many people have let their families fall apart for foolish, petty reasons, and the two of you keep trying, after suffering so much?”

“I couldn’t do it without you,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sure-” she protested.

“Neither could I,” Bae said. “We need you.”

Her eyes grew bright. “I need you too. Both of you.”

“Let me do something for you,” Rumplestiltskin blurted out.

“Rumple, you don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to. Please. What do you want? Anything. Name it.”

“I don’t need anything more than what I already have,” she insisted.

“That’s not what he asked, “ Bae pointed out teasingly. “What do you want?”

“Oh. I suppose I just want to spend time with you. Like Archie said. Let’s play another game tonight.” 

_That’s all?_ He wanted to give her everything. Jewels. A palace. Every book in the worlds. But all he said was, “Of course.” 

She kissed him briefly. “And I thought we could try Chinese again tonight. We’ll have to go to the grocery on the way home, if that’s all right?”

“Of course it is,” although he knew why she had asked for Chinese. He’d been able to eat more of that meal than any other since he’d been back. What she really wanted was for him to be whole again, and that was the one thing he could not give her. 

She kissed him again, then flittered away, picking up the duster again. Bae already had his math book out, so Rumplestiltskin turned to him, and they fought with that until it was time to close.

They ran into the outlaw and his wife and son at the grocery.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t know why, but he found Marion unnerving. Perhaps it was because she did not belong in this time and yet the gods had had allowed her to be brought here. Perhaps his curse didn’t like her. Or perhaps he was simply an old monster that didn’t know how to cope with gratitude.

“Thank you again, for healing my heart,” she said, standing closer to him than he was comfortable with. He took a half step back and placed his cane between her and himself. She only smiled.

“You’re welcome,” he said coldly. Not put off in the least, she only smiled wider.

“This world has such a great variety of food,” she said, “Especially in the winter.”

“You haven’t experienced a full Maine winter yet. They are much harsher than Sherwood winters. You may find the woods less hospitable than you think.” He glanced at Roland. As someone who had struggled to keep his son warm through Frontland winters (which were more similar to Maine winters, although still not as harsh), he thought they were daft for keeping their boy outdoors all night when the second curse had granted all the outlaws perfectly serviceable homes. 

“So we’ve been told,” Robin said. “Granny has offered the inn if it comes to that.”

“Or maybe he’s right, Robin,” Marion said. “We’re not outlaws here; there’s no reason we can’t give Roland a real home.”

“The men are uncomfortable in these new buildings.”

“And what about Roland?” Marion looked at the boy, “Would you like to live in a warm house this winter?” she asked sweetly. Too sweetly. Rumplestiltskin’s grip in his cane tightened involuntarily.

Roland looked at her then at his father. “I liked the castle.”

Belle giggled lightly, taking Rumplestiltskin’s arm. He had not begrudged the boy his castle; it was the boy’s father he hadn’t wanted snooping through his things. “The castle is in another land, remember?” the outlaw said.

“Can we find another one? Winter is cold.” 

“There are no castles in Storybrooke. To be honest,” the thief confided to Rumplestiltskin, “We’d been hoping to find passage back to the Enchanted Forest before winter arrived. I don’t suppose you know of a way?”

“Barring the giant’s ability to grow more beans and the Sorcerer’s intervention, I do not. You’re in this world for the foreseeable future; I suggest you adapt to it.”

“He’s right,” Marion said, flashing him another unsettling smile. “We need to try to build a life here. It’s only fair, for Roland’s sake. He’s already going to school; he should have a home.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” the thief said with a sigh. “I should speak to R- Mary Margaret about living quarters. I know that they are struggling to find places for all those who came over as monkeys.”

“We can help,” Belle said. “Rumple owns a lot of properties.” She looked at him hopefully. He didn’t have it in him to deny her anything. And it was a distraction; something to do in the late hours other than simply listen to the voices of his curse. He knew it rebelled at the thought of helping anyone (without proper compensation, of course), especially someone who had stolen from him. Perhaps Rumplestiltskin could find satisfaction in that. 

“I’ll look into it,” he said.

“Thank you,” Marion said again, reaching out to touch his hand.

He felt a stab of panic and snatched it away with a sharp gasp, snarling, “Don’t touch me!” 

She stumbled back, eyes wide, and looked pleadingly at her husband. “I’m s-sorry!”

Frowning, the thief pulled her behind him. “You did nothing wrong,” he assured her, pinning Rumplestiltskin with a baleful glare.

“Rumple,” Belle said softly, “It’s all right.” _It’s not._

“I’m sorry,” Marion repeated, and something about the pitiable expression on her face ignited his temper. What right did she have to make herself out to be a victim when she’d dared touch the Dark One without permission? People had died for less than that.

_Punish her._

_Shut up!_

Rumplestiltskin looked helplessly at Belle, who, bless her, seemed to know exactly what to do. “It was good to see you,” she said to Robin and his family, positioning herself between Rumplestiltskin and them. “But we do have to finish our own shopping. I will get back to you when we know what properties are available.”

“Thank you,” the outlaw said stiffly. He was looking at Rumplestiltskin like he would a madman. _I am a madman._

But she still had no right to touch him. Fear and anger - much of which was not from his curse, he was certain of this - seemed to have set his nerves aflame, and the strain of holding it back was staring to choke him. He stared at the ground, gripping his cane so tightly he expected the metal to crumple under his hand. He did not look up until the thief and his lady were at the end of the aisle. For a split second, Rumplestiltskin thought he saw Marion smirking at him, but surely he was imagining it. In the next moment, she looked back at her husband, meek as a mouse.

_Stop! I just want it stop!_

_Pathetic. Weak. Coward._

_Slaughtering an innocent woman is not courage!_

_Are you sure she’s innocent?_

_I know you’re not._

He jumped at Belle touched his shoulder. “Rumple? Are you with me?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He wasn’t. They both knew it.

“Do you want to go home?”

“Once we’re finished here.”

“You’re sure?”

“ _Yes_.” 

“All right. The next thing we need is… dried mushrooms.”

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so broken._

_Pathetic spinner. You will never be loved. You are nothing._

_I am loved, even if I don’t deserve it. And if I am nothing, you are less than that. As long as this curse is mine, I will never give you what you want, dearie._

_Bold words from a coward._

_Coward I may be, but you need me._

_You will never be happy. You destroy everything that you touch._

_Then I’ll destroy you._


	15. Open

“Where would you like to begin?” Archie asked.

“I wouldn’t,” Rumplestiltskin answered.

“That’s understandable. This is a difficult process. Do you think there is a point where you _could_ begin?”

“It’d be pretty pathetic if there wasn’t, wouldn’t it?” But he did not actually supply a point, only worried the head of his cane in his hands.

“No, it wouldn’t. You’ve been through a terrible trauma. It can take some people years before they can discuss experiences of that nature. Some never can.”

“Pathetic,” Rumplestiltskin spat. 

“I’m going to have to disagree.” The older man looked away. “Can we start with some medical questions?”

“Medical?”

“You said you haven’t been eating or sleeping…”

“I eat sometimes.”

“How often?”

“It depends.”

“On what?” More silence. “Do you sleep sometimes?”

“…No.”

“And what physical effect does that have on you?”

“None. I don’t need to sleep.”

“Because of your curse?”

“Yes.”

“Have you gone without sleeping for long periods before?”

He actually laughed. “Oh, yes. The first time I slept after I became the Dark One was the first night I spent in Storybrooke.”

_That_ was not the answer Archie had been expecting. “And what was that like for you?”

The question took Rumplestiltskin by surprise. He blinked at Archie, and did not answer immediately. “… I got a lot of spinning done.”

“Is that relaxing for you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Can you sleep, if you choose to?”

“Yes. In the Enchanted Forest, it requires magic. Here… my magic keeps me awake.”

“So you’re choosing not to sleep?”

“I’m choosing to function. To end the spells would not make me sleep, they would only make me need to.”

“You don’t think you’d be able to sleep even if you tried.” He nodded reluctantly. “Have you tried?”

“I don’t see the need.”

“Did you sleep after magic first came to Storybrooke?”

“Yes,” he said, shrugging. “I suppose I was in the habit by then.”

“And you’re not in the habit now.” He shook his head, his expression haunted.

“Are you afraid to sleep?”

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“What does it matter?”

“Because insomnia and other sleep disturbances are common reactions to trauma. And I think you know that, which is why you are evading the question.”

He looked at the head of his cane again. “I can’t be trusted. My curse can’t be trusted.”

“You believe that your curse will be able to cause harm while you are asleep?”

He nodded. “I will not allow it to harm Belle. I will _not._ ”

“Have you told Belle that you are concerned about this?”

“She’ll insist it’s worth the risk.”

“Is that your only reason for not telling her?”

More fidgeting. “…No.”

“What are your other reasons?”

“She’ll insist, and I…” 

There was always a fine line between pushing too hard and allowing a patient to stonewall. Finding that line with a new patient, particularly one as closed off as Rumplestiltskin, could be extremely difficult. “Can you finish that thought?” Archie tried.

From his stance and breathing it was obvious that Rumplestiltskin was getting closer to tears. “She’s been so good to me, to us, I can’t…”

“Do you feel that you can’t disagree with her on this?”

“She won’t accept it. She’ll insist that I try.”

“And you want her to accept it without challenging you about it.”

“Yes.” He admitted this as if it where a terrible sin.

“Do you feel that she pushes you too hard?”

“No! She’s been so patient. I don’t deserve her.”

“But on this particular topic, you are afraid if what she will say.”

“I’m afraid I will listen.”

“And end up hurting her.”

“Yes.”

“Are you afraid if anything else?” His refusal to answer was admission enough. “What do you think might happen to you if you attempted to sleep?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does; it’s the reason we’re here. These sessions aren’t about Belle, they’re about you.”

Rumplestiltskin did look at Archie then, pinning him with a predator’s stare. “What do you think your other patients would think of you trying to make the Dark One ‘feel better’? How many of them only come to you because of me?”

“I can think of at least two patients who would be very pleased, and they are the only two whose opinions matter in this respect. I’m not an arbiter of justice, and I certainly do not enable revenge. I’m also quite certain that you are aware that you are not the only patient I’ve had with a dark past.”

“You believe in helping all people,” he said, almost derisively. “Even the villains.”

“I suppose I do, although I won’t call you a villain.”

“Then what would you call me?”

“A father. A partner.”

“That’s all?”

“A spinner. A landlord. The Dark One.”

“And you say I’m not a villain? That’s just semantics.”

“Is it? You are the Dark One; that is your title. But what you decide to do with that power is up to you, and since you have found your son, you have consistently used that power to benefit others. You saved my life at least twice. You rescued the Lost Boys form Neverland, defeated the ogres, protected Henry from Regina… I could go on.”

“I didn’t do those things out of the goodness of my heart,” he dismissed.

“I’d argue that you did. You did those things because Bae and Belle asked you to, and you want to do right by them. That is a good impulse.”

“If it came down to it, I would leave the rest of you to rot to save them.”

“I think most people would.” Rumplestiltskin rubbed his forehead in agitation; he was getting frustrated that Archie was not agreeing with his assessment of himself. Archie only felt terribly sad for him.

“If Zelena had lived, would you have coddled her as well?” Rumplestiltskin snapped.

“Do you believe that I am coddling you?”

“You’re attempting to make me out to be better than I am.”

“I don’t believe that I am.”

“For pity’s sake, get angry! I corrupted you! I handed you the means of your own destruction!”

“No, you didn’t. If anyone other than myself corrupted me, it was my parents, but as soon as I was an adult, it was my choice to stay. And that potion did not destroy me. I’m a better person now than I was then. Others suffered, yes, but that was not solely your doing either. I made choices, and my parents made choices, and Reul Ghorm made choices. Your potion was only part of that.”

“Such distinguished company,” he said snidely. “Surely I cannot be a villain then.”

“Is it important to you to label yourself that way?”

He leaned forward. “It’s important to call something what it is. You should know that, surely.”

“Would you rather be a villain than a victim?”

That was a risk, but Rumplestiltskin was deflecting, and he was doing it for a reason. Rumplestiltskin froze, a flash of panic showing in his eyes, and then he bared his teeth. “Yes.”

“Are those the only two choices?”

This was not unfamiliar territory. Archie had worked extensively with Regina, and saw clear parallels. Rumplestiltskin leaned back, unsure again, and shaking with the effort of containing his emotions. Archie glanced at the clock, giving Rumplestiltskin a minute to reorient his thoughts.

Archie wondered sometimes what land Pongo had come from, and why Regina’s curse had assigned him to Archie. Under the curse, Archie had often felt alone, his dog more a reminder of what he didn’t have than what he did. But after the curse had been broken, Pongo had become something else entirely. A comfort. A companion. And not only to Archie.

Pongo got up from his bed in the corner, wagging lightly as he walked over to Rumplestiltskin. Startled, Rumplestiltskin blinked as Pongo sniffed at him then sat at his feet, his tail thumping on the carpet. Slowly, Rumplestiltskin reached out and started rubbing the dog’s ears. Pongo was very pleased with this arrangement and lay his snout across Rumplestiltskin’s knee, wagging enthusiastically.

“Good boy,” Rumplestiltskin said. “You’re a good boy.”

“Do you like animals?” Archie asked.

“Dogs. And sheep,” Rumplestiltskin replied, keeping his eyes on Pongo. “Of course, they don’t usually like me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Animals are sensitive to dark magic; most of them avoid me.”

“That must be lonely.”

“It’s wise, on their part. Humans should be so wise.”

Archie glanced at the clock again. He debated weather to bring up another difficult topic. They did have time. “Would you be willing to talk about your eating patterns?”

Rumplestiltskin paused for a moment, then resumed the rhythmic petting. “It’s what I’m paying you for, isn’t it?”

“I can’t do anything without your cooperation. You have the power here.”

He smiled darkly. “I suppose I do.”

“I’ll start with the same question; do you need to eat, physically speaking?”

“No.”

“Have you gone without eating for long periods before?”

“Oh, yes. It becomes an unnecessary distraction sometimes.”

“Is that why you’re not eating now?”

“…No.”

“Can you tell me why?”

Rumplestiltskin continued to rub Pongo’s ears as if he hadn’t heard. After nearly three minutes of silence, he said, “I feel… ill.”

“Ill how?”

“Does it matter? The Dark One cannot be ill, so it must be in my mind.”

“It does matter. How it manifests could be an indication of what’s causing it.”

“I know what’s causing it.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Surely you can guess.”

“I probably could, but I need you to say it; that’s the process.”

Rumplestiltskin breathed deeply, still not making eye contact. “Zelena,” he said. “She had… fantasies.”

“What kind of fantasies?”

“She wanted… love. A family. It amused her to have me share meals with her.”

“What was that like?”

“Unpleasant.”

“And now meals remind you of those experiences.” He nodded. “Are some times or foods worse or better in that respect?”

“I can tolerate tea, most of the time. Different flavors can help.”

“That’s excellent. What kind of flavors?”

“Belle suggested Chinese. It was more tolerable. She noticed, and requested it again.”

“Was it still more tolerable the second time?”

“To some degree. There was…”

“Yes.”

“There was something of an altercation at the grocery. It left me… agitated.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“A woman touched me without my permission… my curse did not react positively to that.”

“How did it react?”

“It wanted me to… punish her. For presuming.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Clearly.”

“How did you feel about her touching you?”

“I’d have rather she didn’t.”

“Were you frightened?”

“ _Startled._ That’s not unreasonable.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It’s rude to touch someone without their permission.”

“I agree. Were you angry?”

“I wasn’t going to hurt her.”

“I know. “

“Then what does it matter?”

“Because being allowed to feel negative emotions without acting on them is important. Were you angry?”

“Yes.”

“And what happened next?”

“I told her not to touch me. I frightened her, and her husband looked at me like I might eat her alive. Belle managed to move them along.”

“And what did you do?”

“Nothing. I was… distracted.”

“By your curse.”

“Yes.”

“And this event distressed you enough to affect your appetite.”

“I suppose.”

“How do you feel thinking about it now?”

Pongo was nearly asleep now from Rumplestiltskin’s administrations. “It was… unpleasant. I’d like to not repeat it.”

“Do you feel sick, thinking about it?”

“I always feel sick, it’s a matter of being able to choke something down regardless.”

“And most of the time you can’t.” He nodded.

“Pathetic, I know.”

“I’m going to ask something of you now that I think is very important for your recovery.”

“What?”

“Stop using that word.”

“It’s important to call things what they are,” he repeated.

“That’s right, which is why I want you to stop using it. It’s an emotionally laden word, and not at all accurate in this situation.”

Rumplestiltskin finally looked at him. “No? Tell me, Doctor, what word would you use?”

“Disordered. And understandably so.”

“I should be stronger than this!” he hissed, startling Pongo. He watched, distressed, as Pongo snorted and pulled his head back, looking back and forth between the two humans. Rumplestiltskin’s left hand curled in the air as if he wanted to comfort the dog but didn’t trust himself to do it. Archie smiled at Pongo encouragingly, and he laid his head back down on Rumplestiltskin’s knee, begging for scratches. Slowly, Rumplestiltskin obliged.

“This is a phrase you are probably going to rapidly tire of, but I don’t consider ‘should’ a terribly useful word either.”

Rumplestiltskin actually rolled his eyes at that. “Come now, Doctor.”

“‘Should’ statements can put a lot of pressure on someone when what they need in that moment is understanding and compassion.”

“Oh? Is that what you think I need?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you think I deserve that?” he asked, studying the top of Pongo’s head with deliberate intent not to make eye contact.

“I try not to dwell on matters of deservingness, but yes, I do.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Sometimes.”

With Regina, Archie has perfected the skill of refusing to engage when a patient was spoiling for a fight. With nothing to rail against, Rumplestiltskin simply went quiet, stroking his thumb along Pongo’s crown.

He needed time to process, and so Archie let him. This would be a difficult case. Archie had worked with trauma patients before (both Bae and Belle, for example), but Rumplestiltskin’s responses were inexorably tied up in centuries of emotional problems that had never been addressed, let alone resolved. He was also a difficult combination of both reluctant and extremely intelligent; he’d run circles around Archie if he let him.

Their time was winding down when Rumplestiltskin asked, “How can you possibly help me?”

“With your cooperation, I hope. The process is quite impossible without it.”

Another silence. “I don’t want to fail them,” he finally said.

“What would it mean, to fail them?”

“They’re in danger. The closer they are to me, the more danger they’re in. They deserve everything, and I… I can’t even choke down a meal to keep Belle from worrying.”

“I can’t make you any promises beyond that I will do my best. But from where I’m sitting, you’ve been remarkably resilient. I have every reason to believe that you will be able to overcome this. I do think I can help you, if your will let me.”

“And if I’m beyond help?”

“I don’t believe that you are. I think Pongo has already had some success in that regard.”

Pongo perked up at hearing his name, brown eyes opening to look at Rumplestiltskin. He ‘wuffed’ quietly. “Well… he’s great deal handsomer than you,” Rumplestiltskin deflected.

Archie smiled. “That’s true.”

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin walked back to the shop feeling hollowed out and strange. Belle and Bae were waiting there. Belle smiled when he came in, trotting over on her high heels to give him a kiss. She did not ask about his appointment, instead chatting about possible housing for the newcomers and Merry Men. She was giving him space, and he appreciated that.

Bae looked at him, a question in his eyes that he didn’t voice. Rumplestiltskin squeezed his shoulder as he walked by, hoping it would be answer enough because he couldn’t offer anything else.

He turned to the real estate records. The task turned out to be surprisingly engaging. It was just deal-making in the end, playing with maps and numbers instead of lives, and Belle was excited for him to help these people. He called Midas, and between their properties, they were able to submit a recommended plan to Mary Margaret. Bae had the idea to rent Rumplestiltskin’s cabin out to Robin and his family, which seemed like a fair compromise. It wasn’t as if Rumplestiltskin had ever used it, and if he felt uncomfortable with the idea for some reason he could not explain, clearly that was only the result of imaginings on his part that should not be indulged. When they were done, Belle kissed him again and thanked him, and he could at least pretend that he had, in some small way, repaid her.


	16. Gold and Rum

Another morning. Belle woke with Rumple wrapped around her like she had every morning since Zelena. Ten days. Only ten days, and yet it felt like… she didn’t know how long. She’d lost her sense of time while Rumple had been imprisoned, and she was only now getting it back, carefully counting each morning she woke with him beside her.

Ten days.

She wanted to celebrate. “Good morning,” she said. He was able to smile for her.

“Good morning.”

“Let’s do something special today.”

“Like what?”

“We could…” Go to Granny’s? It would be crowded, and food was so difficult for him. A special meal at home only seemed cruel. A walk in town invited stares that Rumple used to ignore, but Belle could see bothered him now. “What would you like to do?”

He toyed with her hair as he considered the question. “A walk on the beach?” he suggested, unsure.

She kissed him. “Perfect.”

XxXxXxX

Emma had known when had agreed to be co-sheriffs with David that her new brother would mean she would be taking on the bulk of the work (for now). She could not blame David for wanting to experience those moments he’d missed the first time, and fake memories or not, she knew now how important that was. Regina could be difficult, but she’d more than kept her word to give them a good life and good memories. Before, Emma had always wondered what it would have been like if she could have raised her baby. Now she knew, and she wanted David to know too.

She’d been getting congratulations on her new (old) position for the last few days, along with people wanting assurances that, yes, Ingrid was gone for good, yes, Zelena was really dead, and no, there weren’t any more witches holding the town hostage. 

_The gods on the other hand…_ but no one had asked about that.

Emma retreated to the Sheriff’s Station just to give herself some peace. Naturally, that meant that she would find the person (OK, one of the people) she least wanted to see waiting for her there. “Did your ship get stolen?” she asked Hook.

He smiled in that way that she knew he thought was charming and replied, “No.”

“Was Smee kidnapped?”

“Not recently, to my knowledge.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To see you, of course.”

“I’m on shift; I don’t have time to chat.”

“After, then?”

“That’s my time with Henry.”

“I’m told this world has a thing called the weekend...”

“Also my time with Henry.”

“And if I had questions as a concerned citizen? Could I not have a moment of the Sheriff’s time now?”

“What questions?”

“Is it true that the snow witches have left? And the werewolf?”

Emma sighed. “Yes. Ingrid, Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Ruby found a way to return to Arendale.”

“What way?”

“Why should I tell you that?”

“I was transported to this world against my will. I’d like to know if there’s a way to return home. Are the people of this town not entitled to that information? I thought freedom was a right afforded to all people in this land.”

“That’s just what we tell the tourists,” she said flippantly, but as much as he annoyed her, it wasn’t fair to expect Hook to understand the nuances of twenty-first century politics. She pinched her nose. “The way is blocked. Gold thinks that the Sorcerer wants certain people to stay in Storybrooke. Apparently, the five of them weren’t on the list.”

“The Sorcerer again,” Hook said. For the first time he seemed concerned about more than just flirting. “And who does the crocodile think the Sorcerer is interested in?”

“You know, in most of our versions of Peter Pan, people actually root for the crocodile. I’m not sure that name is as insulting as you mean it to be.”

He grinned at her. “There’s the fire.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You know what else they have in this world? Sexual harassment laws. Buzz off, Hook.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, suddenly serious.

“Couldn’t have been that important if you got distracted by my ‘fire’.”

“Are you in danger? What does the… Dark One believe the Sorcerer wants?”

“Sorry, that information is on a need to know basis. You don’t need to know.”

“Don’t I? Who was it that sent me to retrieve you? And why? Are you the one he’s interested in?”

_Goddammit._ Why did he have to have a point? Not that it mattered. “Your memories were destroyed, remember? Whoever it was, you can’t tell us anything about them.”

“I’m involved. I want to help.”

“You know what? No. No, you may not help. I don’t owe you anything-”

“I saved your life.”

“After endangering it in the first place by stealing the dagger! You don’t get points for that!”

“And from the Evil Queen, in the past.”

“That was a set-up.”

“I didn’t-!”

“Not you,” she sighed. “Whoever was blocking our ability to call Gold. It was a part of all,” she waved vaguely, “This.”

“Then I was right; I am involved.”

“I still don’t owe you a thing. I saved your ass on that trip too, and even if I hadn’t, were you really trying to guilt me into putting up with your crap because of that? Do you really not get what sexual harassment is? At all? Allow me to give you the simplest version: No. Means. No. Leave me alone!”

“I love you.”

“Then have some goddamn respect for me! I said no!”

He looked at the ground and tapped his hook with his good hand and like a kid caught stealing candy. “This isn’t how it’s done in our world.”

“ _Your_ world, and I _know._ But you’re in this one. Harassment is a crime here, and a shitty thing to do to someone anywhere.”

Another moping look at the ground. “I did not mean to cause you distress. I apologize.” And damn if he didn’t mean it. _Does he really just not get it? The Enchanted Forest sucks._

“This is the part where, if you mean that, you leave,” Emma said. “Apologies don’t mean anything if you keep doing it.”

He smiled sadly. “You’re right, of course. I do apologize. Goodbye, Emma. If the Sorcerer feels the need to bring us together again… my feelings will not have changed.”

He left. Emma watched, and he looked back exactly once.

Golems, monkeys, and clingy pirates - why did her love life have to suck so much? She missed Graham.

XxXxXxX

“Cold?” Rumplestiltskin asked Belle. Perhaps November was not the best time for a walk on the beach, but he couldn’t think of anything else that wouldn’t set him shaking. He’d remembered on the way over that Bae didn’t care for the beach, and felt like a wretch for forgetting, but his boy insisted it was fine. Rumplestiltskin would have scrapped the idea anyway, but Bae and Belle had practically dragged him along.

“A little,” Belle replied, “But that’s what I have you for.” She cuddled closer to him, wrapping her arm around his waist.

He reciprocated, deliberately breathing in the cold, sea air. He’d been indoors too long. The beach was… open. Free.

Bae walked a little bit ahead, smiling back at them.

Belle kept looking down as they walked. “Is something wrong, sweetheart?” Rumplestiltskin asked her. 

“What? No, no I’m just looking at the little shells. I used to find much larger ones on the beaches of Avonlea, but the ones here are all so tiny. Or broken.”

“The Atlantic has more powerful tides, and the larger shells don’t usually survive them.”

“The smaller ones are better able to weather it,” she agreed, stopping to examine some. He crouched down with her, picking up a tiny snail’s shell with just a blush of pink in the mother-of-pearl white. She picked up a slightly larger, brown spiral shell. He handed her the snail shell and picked up half of a miniature mussel. 

Bae wandered back to join them, and Belle had a handful of tiny but perfect shells before they left the beach. Bae had found a couple of pieces of sea glass. When their fingers started to freeze, they wandered back to the shop, stopping at the Storybrooke Coffee Company for those elaborate drinks Bae liked so much.

Rumplestiltskin summoned a small satchel for Belle to store her shells in so she could carry her hot chocolate. They tumbled in like jewels, tiny and resilient. He had a sudden idea and offered to carry the bag for her. When she handed it to him, he transformed the contents inside, hoping she would enjoy the surprise.

XxXxXxX

The walk had been a good idea. Open, uncrowded spaces; that’s what Rumple needed. She convinced him to order a hot chocolate at the coffee shop, and he did sip at it without grimacing. They took their time returning to the pawnshop, running into (unfortunately) Killian Jones. He and Rumple locked stares, but then the pirate looked away, moving on without a word. 

“I wonder what that was about,” Bae said darkly. 

“If I had to wager,” Rumple said, “The pirate made another overture to Miss Swan and was sent on his way. He came from the direction of the Sheriff’s Station.”

“Do you think he actually cares for her?” Belle asked.

“As much as he can care for anyone, I believe. He must have some true feelings for her, or Zelena would not have been able to enchant his kiss.”

“But not True Love; it can’t be corrupted that way.”

He nodded. “Precisely.”

When they returned to the shop, Belle took their coats to hang them in the back. “I can do that, Sweetheart,” Rumple said.

“Your hands are full; I’ve got it.” He gave her an enigmatically sly smile, which she happily reciprocated before going to hang up the coats. When she returned to the showroom, he handed her the small bag he had conjured.

“Your shells, Sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” But the bag was much heaver than her collection of tiny shells. “What…?” She spilled the bag into her palm, and a golden bracelet fell out, the shells gold plated and dangling from a central chain.

Rumple was watching her shyly. She didn’t want him to think that he had to give her gifts things to repay her for being kind, but apparently he felt differently. “Rumple, it’s beautiful,” she said.

“You like it?” He radiated insecurity, and it broke her heart. She kissed him, hoping her actions would help convey what he had trouble believing when said in words.

“Yes, I like it. Put it on me.”

He did, and it was just as well that she had asked. The catch was so fine that she would have had trouble managing it with one hand. Once the catch was closed, he ran his finger through the dangling shells, producing a charming, quiet tinkling sound. “It’s beautiful,” she repeated, giving him another kiss, and letting him hold her.

He was trying. By the gods, he was trying so hard. She loved him so much. 

XxXxXxX

Regina was trying to stay away from Robin, she really was. So it really didn’t help things when he showed up at her door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, more hopefully than she’d meant.

“I wanted to let you know that the camp has moved. We’re renting a cabin from Rumplestiltskin, and the men have relocated to the area around it.”

“‘We’ as in you and your wife?”

He nodded reluctantly. “She thought the winter might be too hard on Roland. They’re harsher here than in Sherwood.”

“She’s right. I should have said something.” Why hadn’t she said something? Roland was just a little boy.

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know that,” Robin said.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Regina-”

“You could have told Henry to pass it along, or any of the members of the Council. You could have dropped a letter in my mailbox. You’re here because… why the hell are you here?”

“Because… my heart is here.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. I was standing there, in the cabin. They were so excited. And all I could think of was you.” 

“You have a son.”

“I’m told it’s not uncommon for parents to divorce here.” Why was he coming to her with this now? It was too good to be true. And too awful.

“Marion doesn’t know anything about this land. She needs you.”

“I will help her; she is still my friend. The classes will be starting up again, and she has the Merry Men. But I can’t lie about how I feel. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us.”

“What about to Roland?”

“He misses you. This won’t take her from him; he can have us all in his life. They can have the cabin and I’ll live with the men.”

“Robin… you don’t get it. I’ve been written as a villain; I don’t get a happy ending. If you do this, something else will happen; it always does.”

“But the Author is imprisoned; he can’t influence your fate anymore.”

“Exactly; he can’t change it. What he wrote stands.”

“I’ll take the risk.”

If she hadn’t already been determined to free the Author and get him to fix what he broke, she wouldn’t have had the strength to push him away. But if she gave in now, she knew something would happen. She had to protect their future together. “No,” she said. “I won’t let you.” She closed the door.

“Regina? Regina!” She walked away.

XxXxXxX

“Bit early for you to, isn’t it?” There was only one other patron at the Rabbit Hole. Killian couldn’t remember his name, if he had ever known it.

“Never too early for rum, mate,” he said, gesturing to the bartender. He usually took a booth, but he wanted to be closer to the liquor today.

“More of an ale man, myself.”

Killian had known that. This one was always here when he came and stayed after he left, unless Killian also stayed until closing time (and what a beastly idea that was - closing a tavern when there were men who needed to drink). He always drank ale and barely spoke to anyone. Rumor was a woman had broken his heart. Killian could understand that. “So why are you here before sundown?”

“I’m always here before sundown.”

“But you’ve a reason. A woman?”

“None of your business, mate.”

Killian grunted and threw back his rum, gesturing for another. He’d never been the type to bare his soul either. Not even to Milah. Not unless they were both very deep in their cups.

XxXxXxX

“Another!” the pirate called.

“Sorry, guys, I’m cutting you off,” the barman said. Will found that terribly funny.

“I don’t think he has many more parts to spare, mate,” he giggled. It had been a long time since he’d had any fun while he drank, but after a few rounds of rum, the pirate had started telling stories. Some of them were very funny. Or maybe it was just the way he told them. After more ale in a sitting than he’d had since before Cora had taken his heart out, Will wasn’t sure.

“Come on, time to settle up. Do you need me to call you guys a ride?”

“No horses in Storybrooke, mate,” the pirate said. “Can’t ride.”

“There are horses, you just can’t ride ‘em in town,” Will told him since he might not know.

“Then they won’t hear when you call ‘em. S’just logic.”

“Cars, mate. Y’can ride in _cars._ ” 

The pirate wrinkled his nose. “Don’t like cars.”

“We’ll walk,” Will told the bartender, digging around in his wallet for cash.

They paid, and Will expected the pirate to wander off towards the docks, but he just gazed towards Main Street and sighed forlornly. “‘T’s a girl,” Will said, poking the pirate in the chest. “‘T’s always a girl.”

“Sh’hates me,” he said mournfully. “‘M a villain.”

“Should take yer heart out. ‘S long as ya don’t lose it, t’helps.” Maybe. Heart or no heart, nothing seemed to change.

The pirate rubbed his chest. “Don’t know how. Th’crocodile’d crush it. Won’t give him the satisfaction.”

“Heard the Evil Queen’s not so evil these days,” Will offered. Of course, she could go back. Ana had.

“Huh.”

“C’mon.” He had more ale in his apartment. Whatever the barman said, Will wasn’t ready to end the night.

“Where?” the pirate asked.

“M’apartment.”

They took a roundabout route, weaving through side streets onto Main. “Bloody crocodile,” the pirate muttered towards the pawnshop. 

“S’gotta girl,” Will said. “Not bloody fair, that is.”

“Damn right!”

“Librarian,” Will continued. “Th’short one.”

“S’not fair,” the pirate repeated.

“Not fair at all,” Will agreed, although his sympathies were more for the girl. “Poor girl’l get her heart broke.”

“Er crushed.”

“‘S Same thing. S’what happens when y’fall fer someone like that.” Ana had traded Will for power and jewels, taken him back, and then tossed him out again. It probably would have been better for everyone if she had just crushed his heart; at least he wouldn’t have become Cora’s knave then. 

But his companion sighed mournfully at the big clock and said, “I wouldn’t have done it. Not to Emma.”

“Thought y’couldn’t? Need magic fer that.”

“Sh’said I didn’t respect her.”

“Did you?”

“‘Course! Sh’said I was har- harassing her.”

“Were you?”

“Didn’t think so,” he said sadly, “But she did.”

“What’d ya do?” Will approached the library and peered inside. The pirate followed like a sad puppy dog.

“Tried to court her.”

“S’you were never a couple?” Will asked.

“No.”

“Then quit complainin’. Ana was m’ _wife._ ” Later, Will wouldn’t be able to say why, but it seemed like a great idea just then to smash the glass on the library door with his elbow and let himself in. There was nothing of Ana in this world except books. A book.

“What r’you doin?” the pirate asked.

“Borrowin’ a book,” Will answered.

XxXxXxX

“There you go,” Emma snapped, locking Hook in his cell. His new friend - Will Scarlet, apparently - had already flopped down on his bunk in the other. They were both off their asses drunk and had decided to break into the library. Will was insisting that he’d only wanted a book, and Hook hadn’t said a word except to tell Emma Will’s name (the thief himself had refused to share it). He just watched Emma mournfully, as if she’d stomped on his heart by refusing to give him a chance. No, that wasn’t right. She had given him a chance, and he’d fucked them all over to get his revenge and didn’t even seem to see why that was a problem.

“One more time,” she told him, “You want to tell me what happened?”

“I already told y’what happened!” Will said from his bunk. “He didn’t do nothin’.”

“So just the public intoxication and violation of your restraining order, got it.” At least they hadn’t resisted arrest (or taken a swing at Leroy, who had detained them while Nova had called Emma). “Good night.”

“Good night, Emma,” he said.

“Enjoy your hangover,” she called over her shoulder. She hit the lights as she left.


	17. Giving Thanks

“Woah, what happened to the door?” August asked when he arrived for his shift at the library. One of the glass panels was gone, boarded up with a piece of thin plywood. The nails were small and carefully placed to not leave obvious holes when they were removed. August could guess what his father had been doing that morning.

“A man broke in last night with Hook,” Nova said.

“What? Are you alright?”

She smirked. “Dreamy and I detained them until Emma could get here.” 

“Well, good. Who was the other guy? What were they after?”

“Hook said his name was Will. Will said he was looking for a book, and they were both pretty drunk. Emma thought it might have been the Author’s Book they were after, but now she doesn’t think so.”

“Hm. One of the Enchanted Forest books?”

“We don’t know.”

“Will… there’s a Will who’s a regular at the Rabbit Hole. Fits in with the drunk thing. Do you mind if I call Emma?”

“I think she’d like that. She came in earlier and was very frustrated.”

Emma was happy he’d called; so happy she came over with mug shots and a dozen questions. “Is this the guy you’re thinking of?”

“Yeah. Will Scarlet. He and Little John got into it at the Rabbit Hole once.”

She nodded. “I’ve spoken the Merry Men already, but apparently, he left them years ago.”

“Do you know what book they were they after?” 

“No. Scarlet won’t answer my questions; he just rambles. He did say was that he wasn’t after the Author’s Book, and he’s not working for the Sorcerer or anyone else.”

“And it was the truth?”

“Yeah. Of course Gold pointed out that he could be working of the Sorcerer and not know it.”

“Right,” August agreed grimly. “What about Hook?” Emma’s angry huff was almost comical.

“If you’ll believe it, he was drinking at the bar with this guy and just followed him here. They were both wasted. Apparently, getting rejected was just that hard to cope with.”

“Rejected?”

Emma huffed again. “He came to me again yesterday; he was waiting outside the Sheriff’s Station. Said that he loved me, and I told him that if that was true, he would respect me enough to leave me alone. I think it finally sunk in.”

“Ah, yes. The old ‘be persistent until she falls for you’ technique. I hear it’s popular in the Enchanted Forest, along with ‘kidnap her and keep her captive until she falls for you’, and ‘buy her from her parents’. At least he didn’t try those… Did he? Have you talked to David?”

She laughed darkly. “No. God, August, is that really what it’s like there? I mean, there’s Gold and Belle…”

“Well, that was just supposed to be servitude; he never intended for anything to happen between them. But buying brides? That is how it’s done in some places. It’s medieval there, Emma. Literally.”

“I guess it never really resonated before. I wonder why everyone else has managed to adapt?”

“Some didn’t. Moe French comes to mind. Nottingham. Catton. Actually, I’m seeing a common denominator here: they’re assholes. The Merry Men can’t seem to deal with houses, but they don’t treat women like that.”

She chuckled. She was tired; he could see it. “So what else do you know about Scarlet?” she asked.

“He’s quiet, keeps to himself. Wait, now I feel like I’m describing the Unabomber…. ah, like I said, he and Little John go into it at the Rabbit Hole once, and Little John mentioned something about Wonderland, Maleficent, and another woman. Anastasia, I think.”

“Yeah, Robin explained that. According to Gold, Anastasia is now the Red Queen of Wonderland. She stepped into the power vacuum Cora left behind.”

“Whoa. Does he have anything else on her?”

“Only that things were getting tense in Wonderland right around the time Regina reversed her curse.”

“Hm. You know, that might make sense. Will’s only been a regular since the second curse started, but I do remember seeing him there before the first one broke. Something must have happened in those eight months. Keep an eye on your wallet. He is a thief, and he freely admits it. I wonder if he thought he’d be able to sell some of these on eBay?” August asked, gesturing to the books.

Emma nodded. “Gold and Robin said the same thing. Apparently, the Enchanted Forest books could be worth a lot just because of how they’re made. Thanks, August.”

“Any time, although I’m not sure how much help I actually was.”

“Your information matched Gold’s and Robin’s; confirmation is always good. I’ve still got to check in with the bartender, but it looks like a pretty straightforward case. Public intoxication, breaking and entering, and a restraining order violation for Hook.”

“Sometimes is really is just something petty and stupid,” August offered.

“I hope so. Something is coming, August. It’s driving me crazy not knowing what it is.”

“I’d say something about living in the moment, but I’ve been known to go overboard with that,” he said, his hands in his pockets.

“It’s alright; I already got that lecture from Henry and Mary Margaret.”

“You want to go for a drink on Saturday? Blow some steam off?”

Another smile. “Yeah. I’ll call you, OK?”

“See you, Emma.”

XxXxXxX

Inexplicably, life went on. Jones’ drunken adventure earned him two weeks in jail, which brought a little cheer to Rumplestiltskin’s heart. Belle became concerned about his partner in crime, the thief, and made an effort to reach out to him. Rumplestiltskin was not jealous. Not a bit.

Like the genie, the thief had fallen for the wrong woman, learning too late that her ambition outstripped her love, although Rumplestiltskin gathered that Anastasia had actually loved him at one time. Sometimes it wasn’t enough. Not for a villain. She had apparently taken him back once, vowing to rule Wonderland justly with him, only to succumb to her darker urges again. _You think you are different? You will succumb._

He could not say he would not. 

This week, Storybrooke would experience its first Thanksgiving post-curse. As the first holiday to be celebrated without some threat looming over the town (at least, without one the general populace was aware of), the population dove in with gusto.

Rumplestiltskin ordered a turkey. He planned all the traditional side dishes (he had remembered that Bae liked the cranberry sauce they’d had during their one Christmas together, and would make this one exactly the same). And he steeled himself.

“You don’t have to do this,” Belle said when she realized what he was planning. She hadn’t said a word about the upcoming holiday, and they all knew why.

“I want to,” he said. And he _did._ He wanted so badly to have a special meal with his family, to show them how much he loved them and how thankful he was for everything they gave him. He just didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. _A coward wouldn’t try._ He was going to try. 

Belle smiled, rubbing his arm. The gold of her bracelet glittered under the florescent lights of the grocery, and the little shells tinkled together pleasantly. “I want to help,” she said. She’d figured out that it was harder for him to rebuff an “I want” than a “let me”. He couldn’t deny her things she wanted. 

She really wasn’t a bad cook as long as someone kept her on task, but something in him balked. He didn’t know why. “Of course,” he said. Of course he wanted her there. He wanted her to always be there. Whatever this feeling was, it wasn’t rational.

Bae lit up when they picked up the cranberries. He asked about the pecans and the corn syrup. “What are those for?”

“Pie.” Pumpkin was traditional, but Rumplestiltskin had never liked it. Zelena had made pumpkin pie.

He froze when he saw the outlaw’s wife turn into the aisle. Her son was happily seated in her cart, humming. Marion looked up, saw Rumplestiltskin, and stopped.

“Hello,” she said carefully. Rumplestiltskin nodded curtly.

“Hello,” Belle returned.

“Hi!” the little boy waved at her.

“Hello, Roland. Did you have fun at school today?” Belle asked.

“Yeah! We learned about the pilgrims and the turkeys!”

Their cart was piled with food. Rumplestiltskin imagined that Marion would be hosting the Merry Men at the cabin the next day. The kitchen was small, but any modern kitchen was a gift compared to an open fire (Rumplestiltskin would know). He saw two sugar pumpkins in the cart and looked away.

“That sounds wonderful,” Belle told the little boy. And then to his mother, “It was lovely to see you.”

“You too,” the woman replied, smiling nervously.

Belle took Rumplestiltskin’s arm and let him out of the aisle. He stopped cold when he heard Marion singingly softly.

“Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me  
I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm going to…*”

“Rumple?” Belle asked.

“I’m fine.” It was just a coincidence. It was a well-known song by a very famous artist. There was a radio at the cabin, and she’d probably heard it there. But to him it was a punishment, a song he’d been forced to sing for Zelena because it reminded him of his father.

“…Vanished from my hand  
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping…*”

_Shut her up._

_No._

He hurried out of the aisle. 

XxXxXxX

Bae wondered how differently his life would have gone if Archie had been around when his father had first become the Dark One. Or Belle. Especially Belle.

He’d never really believed that his father was a bad person; it had always been the magic’s fault for changing him (even consuming him, as he had once thought). It was more complicated than that, he knew now, but neither one of them was alone anymore. Bae didn’t know what he would have done if he were alone now like he had been then. 

“Does it still talk to you?” he asked his father as they loaded up the car. He remembered another grocery shopping trip, one tainted by an overwhelming feeling of unease he hadn’t understood. Looking back, his father had answered his questions as truthfully as he could have at the time. Bae felt he could trust him to do the same now.

Papa paused for a moment, then continued putting the bags in the trunk. “Yes, although it has been quieter since Ingrid’s capture. I think it knows its plans were spoiled.”

Bae returned the cart then got in the back seat. Once the door closed, he asked his real question. “It doesn’t like Marion, does it?”

Papa had been about to put his keys in the ignition. Instead, he lowered them into his lap. Belle watched, frowning in familiar concern. “No. But then it doesn’t like much of anyone. Including me.” It was a sad attempt at a joke, and a sadder smile to try to sell it, but it was also the truth. Bae had no doubts about that.

“I think it must hate you now, for rejecting it.”

“It… always hated me, I think. All it can do is hate.” 

“That must be awful.”

He looked down at his keys. “It was worse before.”

“Because you believed it?” Belle asked.

Papa shook his head. “When I was alone with it.” 

Belle hugged him as best as she could around his seatbelt. Her eyes were wet when she pulled away. Bae reached through the gap in the seats and squeezed her shoulder. She smiled back at him, wiping her eyes. “Don’t cry, Sweetheart,” Papa pleaded.

“I’m happy,” she insisted. “I’m happy that we help you.”

“You do. You truly do.” He put his hand over Bae’s, and Belle added hers on top. Bae added his other hand just because, and they all started laughing for no reason. It was awkward as hell, but it felt real. Bae realized that nothing since Zelena had felt quite real until this moment. He didn’t know why, but somehow he thought they would be alright.

XxXxXxX

“You OK, kid?” Emma asked Henry. He’d been quiet, which was odd enough, but especially concerning today. Henry had been excited for Thanksgiving dinner all week, the first holiday he’d ever had with his entire family (Regina would be arriving shortly with the desserts - Emma expected apple).

“Yeah,” he said, putting on a brave doesn’t-quite-believe-it smile.

“Lair,” she said, flicking his hair.

“Mom!” He frantically smoothed his hair down. That kind of grooming was a new development. Emma was expecting girlfriends to become an issue any day now.

“What’s up? You can tell me. Is it Regina?” She still wasn’t happy with Emma for bringing Marion back. Tonight’s dinner could be… interesting.

“No. Mom’s fine-” he believed it too, which made Emma wonder, “It’s just… today’s a day for family.”

“Yeah.”

“But not all my family is coming.”

“You mean… Baelfire.” Henry nodded. _Damn._

Emma sighed. “Things are really complicated for Bae.”

“I know that. But aren’t they complicated for me too?”

“Yeah, they are. But in some ways, in a really important way… he’s not actually your father. The relationship I had that led to you, that wasn’t with him.”

“I know. And I know it’s not fair to ask him to be my dad when he didn’t have a choice and everything, but still, I want to know, you know? He was supposed to be my dad by fate. He is still family, even if it didn’t happen the way it was supposed to. I want to know him.”

“You do know him; you’re friends.”

“He never talks about himself. Or what life was like in the Enchanted Forest.”

“You talk about that with David and Mary Margaret.”

“I want to know what it was like for him. And Rumplestiltskin; he’s my grandpa!” That was… Emma didn’t want to think about what that was. Emma respected Gold, she really did. She had even grown to like him in her own way, and had finally broken down and asked for magic lessons (which he had been genuinely pleased about). But his life had been even more of a horror show than Regina’s. Whatever god had set this whole thing up really seemed to have it out for Gold, and Emma did not want Henry caught in the crossfire.

“Gold’s… had it really rough, Henry.”

“I know. Which is why we have to help him; he’s family.”

_Rescuing him from Zelena wasn’t helping?_ But that wasn’t what he meant; Emma would have done that for anyone. “I think what Gold needs right now is some privacy.” There were rumors going around town about what Zelena had done to him. With so many former flying monkeys, quite a few people had seen things that made Emma sick to think about. The rumors hadn’t made their way to Henry yet (at least, she didn’t think they had), but Gold had to know what was going on.

“Privacy about what? I wasn’t going to ask him about Zelena or anything.”

“He’s… a really private guy, Henry. You saw in the Book how hard it was for him to open up to Belle. Bae and Belle are helping him, and I think what he needs right now is time alone with them. If you want to talk to him - or Bae - I can ask them about it, but I want to you to remember that Bae isn’t that much older than you, developmentally speaking, and he and his dad just went through something really bad.”

And there was the disappointment. It sucked. Henry had had a lot of disappointment in his life (his real one, anyway). It wasn’t fair. “I know,” he said. “I just… I was excited, you know? I thought I might finally get to know my dad. And he _is_ a hero.”

Emma didn’t know if this was just Henry’s natural optimism (and where, between her, Regina, and Baelfire, could he have possibly gotten that?), or some kind of attempt to downplay the gods’ involvement and its implications, but maybe they could all do with a little optimism. “Yeah, kid, he is. I’ll call Gold tomorrow, OK?”

He smiled. His smiles still lit up the world. “OK.”

XxXxXxX

It took some stumbling and flashes of temper for Rumplestiltskin to realize exactly why he had been hesitant to let Belle help cook the meal. And, in fact, he had not figured it out, Bae had. “You need to control this, don’t you?” he asked, after Rumplestiltskin took over peeling the potatoes for no particular reason.

Rumplestiltskin looked down. The potatoes were fine. Bae had peeled them just as he always had, just as Rumplestiltskin had taught him lifetimes ago. But still he’d practically snatched the knife out of his hand. Bae wasn’t even angry; he just looked worried.

Rumplestiltskin put the knife down and took a step back. His stomach was churning. “I’m sorry, Bae. You were doing fine.”

“I know. You didn’t say I wasn’t.”

“I’m ruining it,” he said. _Don’t you always?_

“No,” Bae said. “It’s fine. I understand.” Belle nodded encouragingly.

“Everything is fine, Rumple. You haven’t ruined anything.” That was so far from true it was almost funny.

He knew these thoughts weren’t helpful. Belle was worried. Bae was worried. All he was doing was making all of them even more miserable. Why couldn’t he just get over it like a man should?

_“Shoulds” aren’t helpful._

_What kind of nonsense is that?_

_I’m a gods damned mess._

“Rumple?” He was getting lost in his own head again. Belle had approached him, not quite touching until he looked at her. Then she slowly wrapped her arms around him, giving him every opportunity to pull away. He knew exactly what she was doing, and felt like an utter wretch that his gratitude was tempered by his disgust with the fact that it was necessary at all.

_You’re nothing. You’ve always known that._

_Shut up._

The heat of the kitchen and smell of the food cooking was suddenly overwhelming, but he refused to retreat. He buried his nose in Belle’s hair and breathed in the scent of it. _Belle. This is Belle. Not Zelena. Belle._

She was rubbing his back comfortingly. Zelena had never done that. No one but Belle, and, a very long time ago, the spinsters. _She shouldn’t be saddled with me._

He jumped and looked up when a third hand touched his shoulder, but it was only Bae, reaching around both of them. Bae was taller than Rumplestiltskin now. He didn’t know when that had happened.

_He shouldn’t be saddled with me either._

He knew he’d been down this road before. “Shoulds” changed nothing. Wishes changed nothing. If he put his mind to it, he could chase Bae off, but he didn’t have the strength to make his boy hate him. And Belle would never go.

Rumplestiltskin just wanted to be healed. Normal. He could be what they needed then.

_No, you can’t. You never could._

_All you do is lie to me!_

It laughed. _That doesn’t change the facts._

Dr. Hopper had given him something of an assignment at his second session. He was supposed to record what his curse said to him so they could deconstruct it later. Rumplestiltskin had only agreed because he believed that his curse knew something about the Sorcerer that it was not telling, and that it still had an agenda.

_You do have an agenda. What are you trying to achieve?_

And once again, it went silent. _What does it want? WHAT DO YOU WANT?_ No answer. Dizzy, Rumplestiltskin pulled away from his family. They both looked so damn _concerned._ He was pathetic.

_I want you to stop using that word._

“You can finish the potatoes, Bae,” he said. His voice was more of a croak than anything.

_Please don’t ask me if I’m all right._

They didn’t. Belle took his hand. “Tell me if I’m doing the beans right,” she said, trying to smile.

_I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry._

“Of course,” he acquiesced.

XxXxXxX

Belle was so proud of Rumple. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to hear the voices of his curse constantly as he recovered from his imprisonment (enslavement). She could tell now, sometimes, when they were speaking to him, and she wished she could hear them so that she could help him fight them. He insisted that simply having her there helped, and if that was all she could do, she would be there and support him in any way she could.

He stood behind her as she ran through the recipe with him, his hands on her waist. The recipe was laughably simple, but he nodded as if she were saying something terribly important. “Yes, that’s right,” he said.

Before she got back to it, she took his hands and pulled them around her waist. That was a gamble. There were certain touches that she could tell reminded him of Zelena, and she hadn’t tried this one yet. But he only sighed and leaned against her a moment before kissing her hair and returning to the squash. 

The rest of the preparations continued without incident. She knew that Rumple was dreading the meal itself, but he powered through regardless, even giving her a genuine smile when she entered the dining room to find an elaborate centerpiece that had most certainly not been there a moment before. Fall berries and leaves artfully coiled around thick candles that burned merrily and smelled faintly of cinnamon. The room felt cozy and warm, and in this moment she was nothing but thankful.

The dishes were carried one by one to the table, Rumple bringing the bird in last and standing at the foot of the table to carve it. He took up the knife and meat fork, but before slicing into the turkey, he said, “It’s tradition to on this holiday to go around the table and name one’s blessings. I know I’ve said this before, but I don’t deserve the chances that the two of you have given me, and I… I am so thankful to you two. Any courage I have, it comes from the two of you. Thank you.” He looked down the hide the tears in his eyes, and she could barely see him for the tears in her own.

She placed her hand on his wrist and said, “And I am thankful for you, and to have you back with us. You give me more than you know. And I am thankful to you, Bae. I couldn’t have made it through these past months without you.”

Bae shifted awkwardly, very much a teenager in this moment. “I’m thankful for you, too. Both. Both of you.”

Rumple smiled through his tears and started carving. He didn’t take much meat for himself, but he did help himself to large piece of crispy, seasoned skin. She didn’t care for it herself, so she moved her share into his plate. He blinked at her, almost confused, before thanking her shyly.

He had at least a bite of everything, but little more than that. But even if he had loaded his plate as Bae and Belle did, he wouldn’t have put a dent in the amount of food they had made.

“We should have invited the neighborhood,” she teased, deciding that she did like green bean casserole after all.

Rumple looked panicked for a moment, but was able to respond, “I’m sure most of their tables look the same. No one goes hungry in Storybrooke… not since Regina’s curse broke, anyway.” He glanced briefly at Bae, who gave him an “it’s OK" smile.

“I, for one, want to know what Gaston’s table looks like,” Bae said. Belle giggled. Gaston feeding himself, Lefou, and eight teenage boys - she could only imagine.

Throughout the meal, Rumple was very quiet, and she caught him more than once looking around as if to remind himself where he was. He made an effort to respond when Bae or Belle spoke, and to Belle it seemed like he was attempting to drag himself into the moment by force. That wasn’t an entirely foreign concept to Belle. There had been times, particularly at night, when she’d had to remind herself that she wasn’t in the hospital anymore. Rumple had been so patient with her then. She only wished that he would be half as patient with himself.

When she and Bae were finally done with the meal, Rumple was the first to stand. He gathered up his plate, and she and Bae followed suit. Packing away the leftovers took longer than serving the actual meal.

“We’re going to have turkey sandwiches for a week, at least,” Bae said.

“Is that a problem?” Belle asked. 

“Nope; it’s the best part!”

Rumple smiled and continued carving. “I might coopt some of it for soup or a casserole, if that is acceptable to you.”

“Oh, do! We can freeze some and have it for later in the winter,” Belle agreed.

When the last of the food had been put away, Rumple asked, “Dessert?” less than enthusiastically.

“Ugh, let’s wait a little while,” Bae said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m full.”

Belle was too, but that wasn’t why she wanted to wait. She could tell how much the strain of the meal had worn Rumple down. “Let’s watch a movie,” she said, adding, “It was a lovely meal, Rumple, thank you.”

She couldn’t decide if his hesitant smile was endearing or heart breaking. “August said we can officially start watching Christmas movies,” Bae joked. “Apparently, Thanksgiving is the cutoff.”

Rumple blinked. “The one with the singing skeleton wasn’t a Christmas movie?”

“It’s a Halloween movie.”

“It’s both,” Belle said. “Tell me more about Christmas; it’s like Yule isn’t it?”

“Kind of,” Bae said. “But there’s two parts. There’s the Christian part, with the story about the manger and everything, and then the modern, commercialized part, with Santa and the tress and stuff.”

“That’s interesting; I wonder why that is?”

“I’m sure you could find some books on the subject,” Rumple said. 

She gave him a quick kiss. “I’m sure I can.”

They settled in the den with a film called Galaxy Quest, eventually eating the pie in there. Rumple even had a small piece, and seemed to eat it without much thought. Was it the setting of the dining room that bothered him so much, she wondered? Or the pressure of them looking at him? They stacked the sticky dessert plates on the coffee table, and Belle cuddled against her True Love.

It had been a difficult day, for certain, but still a celebration. Still _theirs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Lyrics from Mr. Tambourine Man by Bob Dylan


	18. Life, Now and Then

“So,” Baelfire said.

“So…” Henry echoed.

Belle bit her lip, forcing herself not to interfere. The day after Thanksgiving, Emma had called Rumple. He’d taken the call in his study, eventually emerging to hesitantly ask Bae how he felt about spending some time with Henry. It seemed that Henry was eager to know about Bae and his life in the Enchanted Forest. They’d talked it through as a family, and while Rumple was extremely reluctant and Bae was clearly nervous, they had agreed to a meeting. Belle had offered the library and brought doughnuts and hot chocolate to ease the way, but she had to let the boys figure out the rest on their own. She was glad that Henry had asked Rumple to join them. He sat with them at the table, very still, waiting for Henry to ask a question. 

“So… what’s the Enchanted Forest like?”

Bae and Rumple looked at each other. “It’s very…. small,” Bae said. “And there isn’t any indoor plumbing. Or plumbing at all.”

“Yeah, August said that. Did you like it?” 

“Sometimes. I like Storybrooke better.”

“Oh. Um… Did you… do a lot of horseback riding?” he asked hopefully.

“No. I’ve never ridden a horse before, actually.”

Henry gaped. “Never?”

“When I was a kid, any horses the villagers had were taken by the soldiers to help fight the ogres. And there aren’t any in Neverland.”

“Oh. But what about when you went back? After the curse was undone?”

“We travelled by magic.”

Henry lit up. “Awesome! Did you get to ride on a magic carpet? I’m trying to get my moms to let me go on Tink’s.”

Bae smiled slightly. “Once. I don’t really like being high up.”

Henry leaned forward and said, “I don’t think Mom liked it much either. Did you like it, Mr. Gold?”

Rumple blinked. “I don’t mind it,” he said. “But it’s a bit chilly this time of year.”

“So, summer? I can totally convince them by then. Will you help? Tell them it’s safe. I told them flying is safer then driving, but I don’t think they believe me.”

Rumple chuckled. “Well…”

Belle relaxed. She smiled and left the desk to reshelve books. 

XxXxXxX

Emma was starting to think that mopey prisoner Hook was more annoying than smarmy pirate Hook. He still watched her intently, but now he barely said a word, and his rakish smile (which even Emma had to admit was legitimately attractive), had been replaced by a mournful pout. She’d been able to ignore it while Will was also still in lock-up (the guy talked - a lot), but Will had served his ten days, and Hook was now serving his last four alone, thanks to Gold’s restraining order.

“You know, it would be just awesome if you would stop staring at me,” she told him.

He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Not much else to look at, love.”

“I could get you some books from the library - legitimately. And don’t call me ‘love’.”

He shrugged. “I’m not much for reading.”

“Should have stayed out of the library, then.”

“I told you, I was merely following my drinking companion. You know I’m telling the truth about that.”

“Too drunk to make good choices isn’t a valid excuse. And don’t you dare try to blame your little bender on me.”

“Bender?”

Emma sighed. “Getting drunk.”

“Why would I blame you for that?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

_Because creepy, controlling guys usually do._ “It’s been known to happen.”

“Only a coward blames a woman for his unwise decisions.”

“But blaming Gold, that’s all right?”

Now she could see the anger. “I was not the one that murdered Milah.”

“But you are the one that tried to murder Belle and August and screw the rest of us over. Whatever else Gold did, that’s on you.”

He looked at the back of his now bare fingers (his rings were in lock-up with his hook and other personal effects). “Yes,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “I was a villain first; there’s no doubt about that.”

That was… truthful. And painful for him to admit, she could tell. _Too little, too late._ But it was a chance to learn more about Gold. And about the world back there. _Maybe Henry’s on to something…_ “So why did Milah run off with you? Were you just that irresistible?” 

He drew one knee up as he sat on his cot, his hand holding his left forearm. He looked into the middle distance, smiling faintly, and replied, “No, although we did love one another. What she wanted most was to escape. She was tied to the village coward. She deserved more.”

“That’s it?” Although, really, what was she expecting form someone who abandoned their child to join a murderous pirate crew?

Hook looked at her. “It means something different there, to be tied to a coward. There was no future for her in that village.”

“And what about Bae? She left him there, with the ‘coward’.”

He grimaced. “She thought that, if given the choice, the lad would have chosen his father. She thought he’d be happier there.”

“Bull.”

“That wasn’t a lie.”

“It was close enough. Even if she did believe that, it wasn’t the reason, and you know it.”

“It was the reason she gave me.”

“Then she was lying. And you knew she was lying. She never wanted kids, did she?”

“Is that so wrong? I thought women were allowed to make that choice here.”

“Not after they already have kids and have been raising them for six years. Why did she marry Gold in the first place if she never wanted kids? I have trouble believing that he didn’t want them.”

“It was what a women did, in her village. She didn’t know she could have more. Not until…”

“Until she met you.” He nodded. Emma could understand feeling trapped. She could understand that Milah had been a peasant woman with few choices, but it didn’t make it right. “So she became a thief and a murderer instead. Because she wanted to be free. After all the times you’ve called Gold out for that, what makes her different than him?”

He inhaled sharply, and Emma expected an insult-laced rant, but as quickly as the anger built, it drained away. Hook dropped his shoulders with a sigh. “I loved her.”

It was an honest answer. She could at least respect him for that. “I see….but seriously, stop staring at me.”

He looked away, his eyes distant.

XxXxXxX

A week passed. Christmas displays began appearing on Main Street. “We should put up decorations,” Belle said, walking arm in arm with Rumple. 

He was still trying. He attended every therapy session dutifully, and participated in their family sessions with determination if not enthusiasm. He’d even agreed to visit with Henry again. But he still wouldn’t sleep (he’d confessed to her in their last session that he was afraid of losing control and hurting her), and he was rapidly losing weight. Despite the admirable progress he had made, she worried for him constantly.

“That sounds like a grand idea.”

“It does?” she asked hopefully.

He nodded. “You were looking for ways to make the library more inviting.”

“Rumple, I meant the shop.”

“Oh. I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Of course it’s not; that’s why it’s fun.”

“Wouldn’t you rather focus on the library? It’s a community hub. The shop is… not.”

He wasn’t meeting her eyes now. She squeezed his arm. “I will do something for the library. But you and Bae are in that shop all day; I thought it would be nice to bring it some cheer.”

“Oh.” Then he smiled, both shy and teasing. “But you do that.”

Involuntarily, she smiled back. “Smooth talker.”

“Not a golden tongue?”

She giggled. “That too. But let’s brighten up the shop. Bae told me about that Christmas you had; don’t pretend you don’t already have plans for the house. Besides, it might help attract customers.”

“What makes you think I want customers?” he asked wryly.

“Why would you open the shop all if you didn’t?”

“So that people looking to make a deal won’t bother me at home.”

As usual, Bae was walking ahead of them, and he chuckled. “He’s got you there. No one buys from the shop, Belle. They never have.”

“I know that’s not true. Nova’s wand came from the shop.”

“Fine. _Almost_ no one.”

“Would it make you happy?” Rumple asked, suddenly earnest.

She stopped and put her hand on his shoulder (she had to remind herself not to touch his jaw). “It would make me happy to do it with you. But if you would rather, you can help with the library. The shop is your space; you can have it however you like.”

He caught her hand in his own. “I like to have you there. We can decorate, if that is what you want.”

She kissed him, his breath particularly warm in the cold December air. “Then let’s.”

XxXxXxX

They ended up going small with the shop, only hanging evergreen boughs and glass baubles in the windows (Papa refused the electric lights, declaring them “tacky”).

The library was a different story.

“We’ll put the tree up here,” Belle said. “Paper chains over the Circulation desk. Lights around the inside of the windows, boughs over the frames with origami stars.”

“Origami?” Bae asked.

“Folded paper. I already have the instructions downloaded.”

“I have the paper here,” August said, putting two boxes on the counter.

“Those look like pages from an actual book,” Bae said, although not complete pages. One box was full of pages cut into squares and the other of strips.

“They are. It was returned to us all torn up; the guy’s dog got to it. I couldn’t repair it, so Belle ordered a replacement but couldn’t bear to throw the old one out. Nova thought she might be able to do something with it so we hung on to it. And lo and behold…”

“What book was it?” Papa asked picking up one of the squares and reading it with a suspicious expression on his face.

“The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People,” August said, amused. 

Papa snickered. “I don’t know why that’s funny,” Belle said. “It’s a book about self-improvement, and now it will help improve the library.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He was humoring her now, but at least he was at ease enough to do it. She kissed him. 

“Can you get started on the chain?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

XxXxXxX

Robin was getting mopey. Zelena didn’t like it. He’s disappeared for a few hours the day they had moved into Rumple’s cabin, and she knew he’d gone to see Regina. But he had returned, and Zelena had taken to mean that he’d chosen her (and it had been a sweet victory indeed), but now he was spending more and more time outside with his men, and he hardly paid attention to her. He was always gone when she woke up in the mornings, and he’d barely complimented the wonderful holiday meal she’d cooked for him and his smelly crew.

She was determined to win him over. There was another holiday coming up, a grander one if the shops in town were any indication. She noticed decorations in both Rumple’s shop (tastefully done) and the library (not), and decided to have a little fun while she gathered the information she needed.

The bell over Rumple’s door rang charmingly as she stepped inside. She smiled at all the mysterious things spilling everywhere, the assorted remains of desperate deals. They reminded her of the Dark Castle. 

Rumple and his son stood at the counter. His little tart was dusting something. “Hello!” she greeted cheerfully.

Rumple watched Zelena warily, and she fought the urge to smile at him. “Hello. I’m looking for a present for my husband. For the holiday.”

The librarian turned to Rumple and grinned obnoxiously. Rumple gave her a skeptical look. “Of course,” she said, setting down her feather duster. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure. A knife, perhaps?”

“If you’re looking for a hunting knife, the five and dime would be a better bet,” Rumple said coldly. “Or Amazon.”

“Amazon?”

“It’s a website,” the boy said. “But unless you have some kind of electronic payment, that might not work for you.”

“…electronic payment?”

“Like Paypal. Or a credit card. You probably don’t have that.”

“No,” Zelena admitted. She’d cultivated a pleasantly dim expression that sent people stumbling over themselves to help the poor, confused woman rescued from the past. She could tell that Rumple was unimpressed by it, and that gave her a thrill. Taking Regina’s supposed True Love was all well and good, but Rumple would always be more of a match for Zelena than any kind-hearted outlaw. 

But, of course, the little librarian was entirely fooled. “Money in this world is really very different than in the Enchanted Forest. Would you like me to explain it to you? Or you can ask any of the library staff; we’re all here to help.” Her friendly smile was sickening, and once again Zelena wondered what Rumple could possibly see in her; they had nothing in common.

Zelena glanced a Rumple out of the corner of her eye as she answered, “Perhaps another time. But I see you do have weapons here.” She tapped one of the cases, which housed a variety of knives and daggers, and a small throwing axe. 

The librarian looked down at them. “Would Robin like something so elaborate?”

“Perhaps. May I see them?”

“Of course.”

“Wait,” Rumple said sharply. The librarian stopped, her hand about to open the case. 

“Rumple?”

“Let me,” he said, his expression dark. “Some of these have magic.”

He’d taken up using his cane again, which Zelena considered a bizarre affectation. Why would he want a reminder of when he’d been injured and powerless? The librarian backed up a couple of paces so Rumple could take her place at the counter. He’d lost weight, but his suit still fit impeccably; he must be using magic to alter it. She smiled at him, and perhaps he could see her desire, because his breath quickened and his pupils shrank. “How much do you have to spend?” he asked, his tone bordering on rude.

“Oh, nothing at the moment,” she said coyly.

“Then I’m not interested in serving you.” His tone was rude, now, and the librarian objected.

“Rumple…”

“Please leave.” He said it authoritatively, but she knew what his fear looked like. He was scared of her. _Delicious._

Zelena widened her borrowed doe-like eyes. “Did I do something to offend you?”

“I’m just not interested in wasting my time. Please. Leave.”

Zelena sniffed, and looked helplessly at the librarian. “Rumple, what has gotten into you?” the smaller woman scolded.

_I have._ Zelena had to fight to keep that pathetic expression on her face. “Well… I’ll just see myself out then…”

“Please feel free to ask for help at the library,” the little poppet said, “Our staff teaches classes for the people new to this world.”

“Will you be there?” Zelena asked, simpering.

Rumple looked at the tart, eyes wide with panic. “No,” he said flatly.

“Rumple!”

The boy hurried out from behind the counter. “Let me see you out.” The librarian was glaring at Rumple now, and Zelena was delighted to have disrupted their cozy, little illusion. 

She let the boy lead her out, imagining how he and the librarian would eviscerate Rumple for picking on poor, poor Marion. She thanked Baelfire and headed back down Main Street, smiling to herself.

_You’re mine, Rumple, and you always will be._

XxXxXxX

“Rumple,” Belle repeated, “What has gotten into you?”

“There’s something off about that woman,” he said, trying to retreat to the back of the shop.

“Off how?” Bae asked, before Belle could deny it. No one could refute that she had been patient with his father, but Marion was the kind of person Belle could never conceive as being a threat and therefore could not understand why anyone else would either. 

“I don’t know,” Papa said, ducking behind the curtain.

“Rumple!”

“Belle, give him a minute.”

“He’s withdrawing.”

“He’s taking a minute. If he really wanted to leave, he’d have used magic.”

She sighed sharply. “If there’s something wrong with Marion, why didn’t he say anything? And why hasn’t Emma noticed?”

“Does Emma spend time with her? I thought Marion usually stayed with Roland and Robin.”

Belle looked at him. “Do you think there’s something wrong with Marion?”

“I don’t know. But if Papa does, we have to take it seriously.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Yes, of course you’re right. I’m not being fair.”

“You’ve been more than fair, and he knows that.”

Distressed now, she walked over to the curtain. “Rumple, can I come in?”

After a long pause, Papa quietly replied, “Yes.”

XxXxXxX

His curse was laughing at him. 

At his word, Belle pulled back the curtain. She was upset. “I’m sorry,” he said instinctively.

_Sorry? Pathetic creature._

“It’s all right. Clearly, something disturbed you.” 

_Disturbed. Yes, I am disturbed._ “I’m imaging it,” he confessed.

“Imagining what?” She stepped fully into the room so that Bae could enter behind her. He didn’t have that terrified look he’d had as a child when Rumplestiltskin had lost control. At least there was that.

He couldn’t explain. Not in front of Bae. “I’ll talk to Dr. Hopper about it.”

“Can you talk to me about it?” Belle asked kindly.

“Not now.” He glanced at Bae, hoping she would understand his meaning.

She did. She nodded and reached out for his hand, letting him bridge the last few inches. “All right. We can talk about it later.”

He was immensely grateful to her, but it felt like a looming punishment all the same. He nodded.


	19. No Stone Unturned

Robin couldn’t stand it anymore. He was lying to the mother of his child, and the woman he loved was miserable and refused to see him. He’d tried again, while Roland was at school, and Regina had refused to open the door.

He started looking into the Author. He’d learned that while Rumplestiltskin was usually the person to ask about obscure magic, he was not their expert on the Author. Instead, Robin headed to the library. 

“So where is the Author now?” he asked August. Robin knew the writer as affable and eager to please, with a tendency to talk too much. He hoped that would serve him now.

“Nova has the Book; we’re keeping all the pieces separated for now.”

“If one were to obtain the Book, how would one free the Author?”

August narrowed his eyes at him. “Why?”

“Perhaps it is time for him to undo the damage he has caused.”

“Damage… Regina? Look, no, there is nothing keeping Regina from getting her happy ending. I don’t know where she got that idea.”

“You said the Author changed things.”

“Yes, in the past. He’s imprisoned now; he can’t do anything.”

“He wrote her to be a villain, and now she can’t change that.”

“Of course she can change that. She’s been changing that. She’s a hero now; she took out Zelena.”

“And then she lost her happiness. First her son, then the battle with Zelena and now…”

“Marion.” Robin nodded. “But she has Henry back. Zelena is dead. And the only thing really keeping her from being with you is… you. If you want to be with Regina, be with the Regina. The Author can’t stop you.”

“If the Author has not already laid out her path, why are all her good deeds rewarded with loss?”

“Bad luck? The gods are screwing with her? Who knows? But you don’t have to be a villain for that to happen; I mean, look at Graham.”

“Mary Margaret’s baby?”

“The guy he’s named for, the Huntsman. He was a hero, and he definitely did not get a happy ending. Regina, of all people, should remember that.”

Robin knew about the Huntsman. Regina had confessed to him that she regretted using him like she had and then killing him when he began to break free. August was right; heroism did not guarantee happiness. “Tell me about the gods. I gather they are involved with the Author somehow,” Robin said.

“We think so, but we don’t know for sure.”

“Perhaps we could ask the Author.”

“Honestly? I doubt he’d know either. Even Blue doesn’t know their agenda. She was just following orders.” He muttered this last phrase bitterly.

“But perhaps he can provide a clue.”

“Maybe. But it’s a big risk.”

“But as long as Emma remains pure-hearted, he cannot change things, isn’t that right?”

“If Gold’s information is correct, yeah.”

“Then what is the harm? And you say you don’t know what he changed; at the very least, he can tell us that.”

The writer sighed. “If you want, bring it up to the Council. Maybe you can convince them.”

Robin considered it. While he was a leader, he did not consider himself terribly persuasive. But he knew someone who was.

XxXxXxX

“I thought this was settled,” Leroy said. “The Author is dangerous.”

“Aren’t we all,” Mom said, eying Mr. Gold.

“August,” Emma asked, “What do you think the chances are that the Author can tell us anything?”

“Directly? Not high. But… there is a possibility that he knows something he doesn’t know he knows. You know?”

“That does seem to be how we’re getting all our information,” she said. “Gold, what do you think?”

Mr. Gold looked thoughtful, leaning back in his chair. “I could not even guess. But the preponderance of evidence suggests to me that the gods intend for us to release the Author, and for him to change events. This would be a step in that direction.”

“But he can’t take the next one unless I go dark,” she said.

He looked at her, his eyes scary and intense. “They can…. exert pressure. Anyone can be broken, Miss Swan, even you.”

“Then I say no,” Mary Margaret said.

“Ah, yes, because we must protect the Savior at all costs, even if it screws over the rest of us,” Mom said.

“The Author changing things _would_ screw us all over,” August said.

“How do you know that? You don’t even know what he changed the first time! Maybe the Sorcerer was just protecting his own interests! We know he’s a manipulative bastard!”

“We don’t _know_ anything,” Henry said. “We can talk about it all we want, but it’s just guessing. So if we’re going to guess, shouldn’t we go with the one that feels right? Imprisoning someone in a book _feels_ wrong to me. Doesn’t it feel wrong to any of you?”

“He’s right,” Mom said, “It’s not like the Author got due process. Don’t you people believe in that now?”

“I agree with Henry,” Archie said.

“Me too,” Nova agreed.

“And me,” Emma said. “So the gods are going to test me. You don’t pass a test by refusing to take it.”

“You’ve been tested enough,” Mary Margaret said sharply.

“And she passed every time,” Henry said. “She’ll pass this one. I believe in her.”

“Damn,” Leroy said. “The kid’s right. OK, I’m in; let’s let him out.”

“I want to know what the Author knows,” Bae said. “I vote yes.”

“Y- achoo - yes!” Sneezy said.

“Yes,” Doc said, and then there were four more “yeses”.

Belle looked at Mr. Gold. “What does your heart tell you?”

“That if the gods desire the Author to be free, they will find way,” he said bleakly.

“Then we should face it head-on,” Belle said. “I vote yes.”

“I think the yeses have it,” Regina said, looking at David and Mary Margaret.

“There’s just one problem,” August said.

“And what is that?” Mom asked.

“I… don’t actually know how to open the door.”

“Do you, Mr. Gold?” Henry asked.

He shook his head. “All magical prisons are different, and I’ve never seen one like this. But if I had to guess, there is a key. Somewhere.”

“And if you had to guess where it is?” Emma asked.

He sighed. “If this is the Sorcerer’s plan, I imagine he’ll make it easy to find.”

XxXxXxX

“It does all seem to lead back here,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, as they entered the Sorcerer’s mansion.

Belle looked at him in concern. “Do you sense anything?”

“Nothing different than our previous visits.”

“The room with the Books is probably the place to start,” Emma said. Henry nodded, already half way down the hall with his Book.

The crowd made quick work of the room, finding nothing that had not been there the last time.

“Next room?” Emma asked.

“I don’t think so,” Henry said. “I feel like it’s here.” 

“Feel how?” Emma asked.

“I don’t know; I just do.”

“Gold?”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “He is the Truest Believer. Perhaps the answer is here if he believes it is.”

Henry grinned. He opened the Book to the page with the door. “Maybe...” The boy held his breath, and most of them held it with him. 

Nothing happened.

“It’s here!” He said. “I know it’s here!”

“The magic of this house is strange,” Regina said, “It could be confusing you.”

“Let’s try the other rooms,” Emma suggested. “If we don’t find anything, we can always come back.”

“OK,” Henry said reluctantly.

They didn’t find anything in any of the other rooms either. They’d been there nearly two hours when Robin’s phone rang. The noise startled Rumplestiltskin, and he hissed to keep himself from shouting. _Coward,_ his curse taunted.

It was the outlaw’s wife, wondering where he was. As he babbled into the phone, he and Regina exchanged apologetic (him) and resentful (her) looks. Without a doubt, their drama would come to a head soon, and Rumplestiltskin did not expect that anyone would emerge unscathed. There had been a time when that inevitable rush to ruin would have delighted him (or had it? Had it just been his curse all along?), but now he was just tired.

“If the gods meant for us to find the key, we would have found it by now,” he declared as the outlaw hung up in phone.

“How can you possibly know that?” Regina demanded.

“Because everything else they’ve done has just fallen right into place,” Emma said, pushing a hand through her hair. “I think he’s right. The key’s not here.”

“It’s in that room,” Henry insisted. “I know it.”

Emma and Regina shared a complicated look. “Let’s try one more time,” Emma finally said, leading the frustrated and weary crowd back down the stairs. Rumplestiltskin hung back, and Belle and Bae noticed, joining him.

“What are you thinking?” Belle asked. She said that now instead of asking how he was. It was a harder question for him to deflect.

“I don’t know. Perhaps it is not yet time for the Author to reveal himself. Someone waited months before sending the pirate to find Miss Swan in New York. Perhaps this is similar.”

He didn’t know what to do. They were at the gods’ mercy, and the Sorcerer’s. He was powerless again. Perhaps he always had been. _We were their playthings._ All they had suffered, all they had endured, just to produce the sequence of events that somehow led them here, and then on to… what? What was their endgame? He felt like a prisoner again, trying desperately to figure out exactly what they wanted from him that would keep his family safe. He felt sick.

Belle nodded. “You’re probably right. Let’s go home. We could all use some rest; we’ll come back to it tomorrow, with fresh eyes.” Rumplestiltskin did not think they would be any more successful tomorrow, but he was too exhausted to argue.

They informed Emma they were leaving. As Rumplestiltskin had anticipated, the repeat search had not produced the key. Belle relayed Rumplestiltskin’s theory to the group, and they mostly agreed, Regina and Robin the notable exceptions.

On their way out the door, they encountered Marion and her little boy. He froze. 

_Break her neck. You can do it._

_Shut up!_

Why did his curse hate her so much? Why did _he_ hate her so much? He didn’t know. All he knew what that something about her felt wrong. But if her had learned anything in the past few weeks, it was that he could not trust his own mind.

She smiled at him. Why did he think her smile was deceptive? “Good evening. Have you seen my husband?” she asked.

“Marion?” the thief called. He’d been trailing behind the larger group with Regina (of course).

“Regina!” the boy cried happily, waving to her. Marion frowned.

Regina said something to the thief, who shook his head. “Go,” she said, louder, gesturing to them.

Rumplestiltskin stared. This was out of character for her, entirely so. She wanted the thief; that was entirely plain. She doted on the little boy too. And while she had been known, in her younger days, to risk life and limb to save another person, she had never been one to give up her happiness so that someone else could have it. 

_She’s planning on using the Author._

And suddenly the sudden push to free him made sense, as did the gods unwillingness to provide the key. Whatever Regina intended to do was not part of their plan. _So what are they planning? Whose story do they intend to rewrite?_

_Yours._

_Why mine?_

_Because you are not playing your part. There will be consequences if you defy the gods._

The Hat again. Why the Hat? Why was it so important that he use the Hat?

_Because you are the Dark One!_

Marion had led her boy through the crowd towards her husband. And her rival. “What is going on?” she asked her husband, wide-eyed. “Why are you here? With her?”

Roland tried to let go of his mother’s hand to embrace Regina, but Marion kept a firm grip. “Stay with me, dear,” she said too sweetly.

Rumplestiltskin inhaled sharply as he felt a sudden stab of fear. Something in her words brought him back to Zelena. He cursed his own weakness. She was not Zelena, nothing like her in fact. Was he doomed to limp through his days panicking at the barest reminder of a woman now dead? 

“Let’s go,” he said to Belle, his voice barely above a whisper.

_Coward. Running away from a harmless woman? Pathetic._

Belle only nodded, eyes and mouth titled in concern. She pulled him towards the door. Bae followed.

XxXxXxX

Robin knew he’d been caught out. And he wanted to be. This deception had to end, and as the Author could not be freed, he was the only one now who could do that.

Roland called out for Regina, but Marion held on to him tightly. “Stay with me, dear,” she said. Robin knew that she feared and hated Regina (and he could not say it was not justified), but Regina had become an important part of Roland’s life.

“It’s all right,” he assured her.

“It’s not,” Marion said firmly.

“I’ll go,” Regina said, taking a step back.

“No,” Robin objected.

“Mama, it’s Regina,” Roland insisted, tugging at her hand. 

“The three of us need to talk,” Robin said. “Nova,” he called, “Would you watch Roland for a bit?”

“Of course!” she agreed, jogging over.

“Robin, what is going on?” Marion asked, but she already knew.

“Nothing,” Regina insisted, taking another step back. 

“Regina, I can’t go on this way!” Robin said. She froze where she stood, her eyes wide and vulnerable. Robin passed Roland off to Nova, giving him a quick kiss before standing and gesturing towards the room behind them. “Please,” he said.

Marion pinned Regina with a hard stare, then marched into the room, turning around to look at them once inside. Robin entreated to Regina, “Please.” 

Reluctantly, she entered the room, and Robin followed, pulling the door closed behind them. “You’ve chosen her,” Marion said immediately.

“No,” Regina said, more to him than Marion.

“Yes,” he insisted.

“Robin, you can’t…”

“I have. With or without the Author, I have.”

“The Author?” Marion asked.

“The Author who writes our stories. That is why we were here, to free him.” 

“What do you mean, free him? Did she do something to him?” Marion asked accusingly.

“No, the Sorcerer imprisoned him.” 

“The Sorcerer?”

Robin quickly explained everything they knew and everything they had guessed, while Regina stared at him, unbelieving.

“So, this person can change our stories?” Marion asked.

“Yes,” he said. “But we were unable to find the key.”

“I see. And so you have chosen her.”

“I am sorry, Marion, but I cannot deny where my heart truly lies. I will provide for you and for Roland. You are my friend and my first love, but my heart belongs to Regina now.” 

“I see. Well. I suppose I understand. For me, it has only been a short time, but for you, years have passed. Your heart moved on.”

“Marion, I am sorry.” And he was. He owed her so much, and he still loved her, but not in the way he loved Regina. He had mourned, and he had moved on.

Marion glanced at the Books, caressing the cover of one. Then she looked at Regina. “They all say you are no longer the Evil Queen.”

“I’m not,” she agreed simply.

“Then I wish you happiness. Cling to it while you can. Things can change so quickly.” 

“I know. I will. And thank you. In your position… I don’t think I could have been as generous.”

Marion nodded and left. She didn’t look back.

He reached for Regina. She pushed his hands out of the way, diving in for a passionate kiss. August has been right; they did not need the Author to find happiness.


	20. Exposed

Rumplestiltskin’s state of mind did not improve. He confessed his revelations about Marion and Regina to Belle, and she entirely supported his desire to avoid Marion, but then insisted that he inform Emma of his suspicions regarding Regina.

Emma was actually unsurprised by them (had suspected the same herself, in fact), but then wanted to know why he’d left the Sorcerer’s mansion so abruptly. When he refused to explain, she began grilling him, convinced he had had some revelation about the gods’ plan. He’d very tersely denied it, reminded her that her powers would verify that he was telling the truth, and tossed her out of his shop. Neither Bae nor Belle objected, but their faces said it all: he was losing his mind.

He avoided the Emma and the rest of the Council for a week. Family and individual sessions with the cricket were the only exceptions, but Rumplestiltskin was starting to believe that that there was no hope for him. He’d never been a strong man, and even a strong man could not resist his curse or the gods’ machinations forever. 

He pretended, as much as he was able. He smiled (or tried to). He cooked for his family (but still could not bring himself to eat). He used both magic and manual labor to decorate the house for the upcoming holiday, and purchased more gifts than he knew Bae and Belle wanted. He was drowning, and as much as he appreciated the endless support of his family, he knew it wasn’t enough. Not because of them, but because of him. 

But still, he pretended.

“How would you feel about lunch at Granny’s?” Belle asked. “If we wait until after one, it won’t be too crowded.” 

“If you like.”

She rubbed his shoulder. “I thought getting outside would do us all some good.”

“As you say.”

They went.

Emma and Henry were there with David, Mary Margaret, baby Graham, and the nurse. All three women kept glancing at him, and this only attracted the attention of the other patrons. But the time they sat down, the entire diner was staring. Belle took his hand under the table. “Are you all right?” she asked, whispering.

“It’s fine.” Not a lie. It was fine. _He_ was not.

The puppet’s grandmother took their drink order, forcing a smile. Slowly, the noise of the diner returned.

Rumplestiltskin looked up from his menu when the door opened. Marion entered with her little boy, both finally wearing modern clothes. Like Zelena, she had opted for a buttoned cape instead of a more practical coat. Rumplestiltskin immediately turned his eyes back to the menu, steadfastly ignoring his curse’s prodding to destroy her.

But, of course, the damned woman walked right up to them, far too friendly. “Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” Belle said politely. “Can I help you with something?” Rumplestiltskin didn’t look up.

“I had some questions about this world if you don’t mind; will you return to the shop after your meal?” The very idea of this woman in his shop made his palms sweat and his pulse hammer. He struggled to stay silent and let Belle handle it.

“Why don’t I meet you at the library? After three would be the best time; August will be in by then, and he has more experience in this world than I do by far.”

“Oh, but the library’s rather crowded, isn’t it? I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Not usually, actually. Today’s Sunday, so we won’t have the usual after school rush.

“Well… all right, then.”

She waved cheerfully, and Rumplestiltskin did look up when he heard a soft, familiar tinkling. She was wearing a silver charm bracelet, and Rumplestiltskin felt a sudden surge of irrational anger. Belle wore her bracelet every day, and he’d come to rely on that sound to remind him that she was there and he was safe. He glared at Marion, and she flashed him a tiny smirk that made his gut clench.

_She’s dangerous. She’ll hurt you. Hurt her first._

_No!_ He was just imagining things; he knew he was. He dug the fingers of his left hand into his thigh to distract himself. I didn’t work. 

“Rumple?” Belle asked. 

He wasn’t going to run. He was going to sit here and act normal because Belle had asked him to, and he owed her that much at least. He put his menu down and smiled at her. “Yes?”

She looked him in the eyes, seeing through him as she always did. She rubbed his back and laid her head on his shoulder. He took her hand and kissed it, all the while able to hear Marion as she cooed over the Charming’s baby.

“He’s so handsome. Babies are precious, aren’t they? So innocent.”

_Innocent._ Rumplestiltskin’s gut clenched again, and Mary Margaret laughed nervously. It seemed almost like a sick joke, how often Marion unwittingly echoed Zelena. But surely it was just coincidental…

_Too many coincidences._

He stared. “Marion, I don’t believe you’ve met Johanna,” Mary Margaret introduced, “She was my nurse when I was a child.” Marion smiled and extended her hand. Johanna took it. 

“How wonderful that you could be here now to help your true Queen raise her own child,” Marion said.

Johanna went white, accidentally toppling her glass of water. She scrambled to mop it up with Henry and David’s assistance, while Emma peered at Marion suspiciously.

_True Queen. Why does that sound familiar?_

“Sorry!” Johanna babbled. “I’m clumsy.”

“It’s fine, Johanna,” Mary Margret assured her. 

Marion stepped back, pulling Roland with her. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your meal. Come along, little monkey.”

_Monkey._

_I am not imaging this. She’s here! She’s alive!_

“Rumple?” His breath was coming hard and fast now, and he was sure that no color at all remained in his face. Belle squeezed his arm. 

_What do I do?_

_Destroy her._

But he didn’t trust his curse any more than he trusted Zelena. He would not destroy her - not yet. He took a deep breath and told Belle, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“We don’t have to stay,” she told him.

“No, you were right. It’s good that we came. I’ll be right back.” He stood up, leaving his cane behind. Belle glanced at it and back at him. He leaned over and said, “Trust me, please. Stay. Here.”

Eyes wide, she nodded. He turned, threading through the tables as if he intended to go the restroom. He put his right hand in his pocket and summoned the magic-blocking cuff from the shop. Marion - _Zelena_ \- now seated at the bar with Roland, looked up. She smiled, and he could not believe that he had not noticed the edge of dark lust in her expression before now. In over 300 years, only two women had ever looked at him with that sort of lust: Cora and Zelena.

“Dark One,” she acknowledged, but before she could complete the words, Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers and transported the boy to his father. “What-” before the smoke could clear, he lunged at her with the speed and strength of his cruse behind him. He grabbed the back of her neck, pinning her to the bar with his left hand. With his right, he snapped the cuff on her wrist to trap her and break the illusion.

But she did not change.

“Gold, what the hell are you doing?!” Emma shouted, jumping to her feet while Zelena - _Marion?_ \- shrieked.

“Help me!”

Granny dove under the counter for her crossbow, and David commanded, “Let her go!”

“She’s Zelena!” he snarled, his curse buzzing in his head like a swarm of locusts.

“Help me!” she begged again. “He’s going to kill me!”

“Let her go,” David repeated, but Emma looked at Rumplestiltskin like he might possibly not be insane.

She held up a hand to David, took a step forward, and asked Marion, “What is your name?”

“Please,” she begged again.

“Tell me your name. If you are Marion, I’ll tell him you’re telling the truth, and he’ll let you go. Right, Gold?”

_Destroy her!_ But he nodded. The cuff had not exposed her, and he felt no magic under his hands. It was entirely possible that he’d been mistaken - _No! You are the Dark One! Take what you want! Destroy her!_ \- if Marion were innocent, harming her would ruin everything he’d struggled for for the past two years. “Deal,” he said roughly.

“Please, please just help me,” she continued to beg. “I have a family.”

“Just answer the question; is your name Marion or Zelena?”

_She’s refusing to answer. Make her!_

He leaned over her and growled, “I’d answer her, dearie, if I were you.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Regina demanded, appearing behind him. Robin Hood stood next to her, his boy in his arms.

“Marion!” he shouted.

“Mama?”

“Robin, please help me!” the woman begged.

“She’s Zelena,” Rumplestiltskin told them desperately.

“Rumple, have you lost it? Zelena is dead!” Regina snapped back.

“Is she? Stabbing someone with an icicle doesn’t usually transform them into ash, dearie.”

“There’s an easy way to settle this,” Emma said with enforced calm. “Just tell us your name,” she told the whimpering woman.

“Robin, please, you know me.”

“She can’t be glamoured,” Regina said, “I would have felt it.”

“He put that magic blocking cuff on her, but she didn’t change,” Granny said, her crossbow now aimed at his head. “Explain that, Dark One.”

“She must have…” Must have what? _Why can’t I feel the magic of the spell?_

“Robin,” Marion begged again. But there were no tears. _She’s lying._

“Take him,” Robin told Regina, handing his boy to her, his expression deliberately blank.

She did, still objecting, “Robin…”

“Just trust me.”

“Papa?” the boy asked helplessly. 

“Just stay here.”

And then he turned on Rumplestiltskin. “You’ve contained any magic she may have?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“Then step back.”

“Robin, Robin, please,” she begged again.

His magic crackled under his skin, screaming to get out. The outlaw took two steps forward and looked Rumplestiltskin in the eyes. “Let her up,” he said placidly.

If he’d barked like Charming or demanded like Regina, Rumplestiltskin would have ignored the request. But it was a request, calmly stated, spoken from one man of reason to another. Hands shaking, Rumplestiltskin released his hold on the woman’s neck, and retreated half a step. She spun around, throwing her arms around the outlaw.

“Thank you! Thank you, Robin!”

“There’s nothing to thank,” he said, patting her once on the back and then pulling away. He placed one hand on her collarbone, and she smiled at him.

“You said you’d take care of me, and-”

Thief-quick, Robin’s clever fingers ducked into her collar, grabbed a hold of something, and yanked. Marion’s dusky complexion and dark hair melted into Zelena’s pale skin and flaming locks. Robin took a hasty step back and held out his hand to Rumplestiltskin. “The six-leafed clover of Oz,” he said. Awed, Rumplestiltskin took the object. He’d read about it, but never handled one; the concealment on it was so profound he couldn’t feel the magic inside. He clenched his fist around it.

For barely a second, Zelena gaped in shock, almost looking betrayed. Kill her! KILL HER! And then she started laughing.

“Well, I guess you got me! I was only impersonating your long lost wife for a month!” She smirked at Rumplestiltskin. “I missed you, doll.”

A rush of magic, and hate, and fear drowned out his other thoughts for a moment, and he was left utterly unable to respond. _KILL HER!_

“You BITCH!”

A woman shrieked, and it took Rumplestiltskin a moment to realize that _Belle_ had launched herself at Zelena, enraged. On pure instinct, he lunged after her, wrapping his arms around hers and dragging her back. He didn’t even realize he was saying anything until she stopped struggling and he could hear his own voice. “Don’t, sweetheart, don’t…”

The thought of Zelena anywhere near his darling Belle made his insides shrivel up with ice-cold terror, and apparently even the bloodlust of his curse was nothing compared to that.

“Oh, Rumple,” Zelena, her cheek reddened, cooed, “I didn’t know you cared. I guess you missed me too.”

He couldn’t even respond to that. The knowledge that she was still alive had so completely overwhelmed him that he couldn’t seem to speak coherently at all. “Shut up,” Emma said, pulling out her cuffs and snapping them on Zelena with a couple harsh tugs.

“Oh, yes, the dear Savior. Please, go ahead and rough me up. Show these people your darkness.”

Robin, casting disgusted glances over his shoulder, hurried over to Regina to collect his son. Rumplestiltskin could only blink at them, trying to make sense of the scene. Belle shifted in his arms, and he realized that she was crying. “Oh, Belle, Sweetheart, don’t cry, don’t cry…” 

She twisted around, looping her arms around his shoulders, and clung to him fiercely. Bae was there now, and he stood guard as Emma marched Zelena out. David followed her, and after a quick exchange with Robin, Regina did too. The rest of the diner just looked on in shock.

Mary Margaret took command. Her baby in her arms, she walked up to Rumplestiltskin. “Thank you,” she said loudly. “For exposing her.”

_Go after her! Kill her! Make her suffer!_

“You’re welcome,” he said tonelessly. Belle pulled away, wiping her eyes. He conjured her a handkerchief. 

“Thank you,” the outlaw said. “You’re the one who sent Roland to us, aren’t you?”

“She’s taken hostages before,” Rumplestiltskin replied. Everything seemed distant and unreal, even his curse.

The boy in question clung to his father, traces of tears on his cheeks. That seemed real, and suddenly Rumplestiltskin was reminded of sparing the outlaw’s life after their first encounter. Seeing him as a desperate prospective father had cut like an arrow then, because even if nothing else of Rumplestiltskin remained, he would always remember being that man. He looked at Bae. His boy smiled and squeezed his shoulder. He looked _proud_ , and perhaps that was the strangest thing of all.

“Do you want to go after them?” he asked kindly.

_Find her. Kill her. Make her bleed._

“No.”

“Back to the shop, then?” Belle asked. “Or home?”

“Home.”

They went home.

XxXxXxX

Emma took Zelena to the interview room at the Sheriff’s Station and locked her in. She braced her hand against the door and sighed angrily. “You all right?” David asked.

“How did I not catch it? She lied the first time she told us her name was Marion, but I didn’t catch it. Fuck!”

“That’s a good question,” Regina said combatively, “I was wondering that myself.” She and Emma were still on bad terms. David could not blame Emma for that, especially when she had not been present during the missing year, but something had to give. Maybe this that was that something.

“You were distracted,” David said. “You’d just barely rediscovered your magic and made it back.”

“That’s no excuse,” Emma said.

“Damn right it isn’t,” Regina muttered.

Emma gave her a hard stare, but didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m going to give her a some time to stew. She wasn’t planning on getting caught now; I’d like to know what she _was_ planning.”

“The Author,” Regina said immediately. “She was planning on using the Author.”

“Are you sure? That’s the obvious play, but she doesn’t always make the obvious play.”

“She was enraged when Robin chose me - until we told her about the Author. Then she got, oh, so cooperative. And did you notice what she said when you cuffed her? She mentioned your darkness; she needs that for the Author.”

“Did you tell her that part?”

“Robin did; he explained everything.”

Emma let out another hard sigh and thumped her head against the wall. “Remind me to send Gold a thank you basket.”

Regina chuckled wryly. “He’ll make sure you pay him back, don’t worry. So what do we do with Zelena now?”

“We question her. How did she survive? What does she know? Did anyone help her?”

Regina nodded. “And then?”

“The hospital, I suppose, although her and Malcolm in the same building could be a problem.”

Regina started pacing. “Have you spoken to him recently? He’s older than Rumple; he has to know things he hasn’t said yet.”

“He’s genuinely clueless. He was talking all his cues from the Shadow, who never told him more than he needed to know. Even most of what he knows about magic is specific to Neverland. Although…” Emma pushed away from the wall.

“What?”

“Do you still have those recording devices?”

“Of course. You want to spy on him?”

“Both of them. Prisoners say one thing to the guards, but something else entirely to other prisoners. If they are both interested in the Author, they might let something slip.”

Regina nodded, smiling slightly. “They might indeed.”

XxXxXxX

After leaving the diner, Rumple hadn’t said a word. It was starting to scare Belle. She still felt shaky from adrenaline and shock that Zelena had been alive and free this whole time. Marion, wherever she was, was probably dead, and who knew what else Zelena had done in that time?

But Belle was mostly concerned about Rumple. He kept his face blank as he waved them into the house. He shed his coat mechanically, hanging it just so. She reached out to him, and he took her hands, frowning when he saw blood on her knuckles.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice distant and small.

“It’s fine-” He placed his hand over hers, and she could feel the pain ease and the small tear in her skin mend itself.

He removed his hand, then blinked at her. “I’m sorry, I should have asked first.”

“It’s all right,” she assured him. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“I do,” Bae said. “You were pissed.”

“That doesn’t excuse it,” but that wasn’t what her heart told her. Zelena deserved every bit of misery Belle could inflict in her and more. She was a disgusting, evil person without a shred of decency or remorse who’d done unspeakable things to the person Belle loved most in this world. But still, Belle was shocked by her own actions. She’d thought that she’d never be driven to attack another person out of revenge. It shook her sense of self to realize that she had been wrong.

“You stopped me,” Belle said to Rumple, “I lost control, and you were strong for me. Thank you.”

“Strong… no, Belle, no. I was _afraid_ for you. Stay away from her, _please._ ”

Oh, she hadn’t meant that! He struggled so hard with his fear; she hadn’t meant to make it worse! “Rumple…”

She hugged him because that was all she could do. They would have to deconstruct this with Archie at their next appointment, but for now there was nothing but to be there for him. His tormenter was alive, and as terrified as she was, she could only imagine what he must be feeling. If she’d thought, back when the first curse broke, that Regina had been killed only to find out later that she had been running free and impersonating someone who kept checking up on her, it would have utterly destroyed her sense of safety.

“I’m here, Rumple, I’m here.”

He didn’t cry. He was stiff but not shaking. When she pulled back and looked into his eyes, they weren’t broiling with emotions like they had been for so much of the past month. They were blank. He was in shock. “Come into the kitchen,” she said, taking his hand, “I’ll make some tea.”

He nodded slowly, following obediently. Bae followed behind. Belle felt sick with anger and helplessness

_What do we do now?_

She didn’t know. Zelena had shattered her family _again_ \- no. No, she refused to believe that. They were all here. They were all safe. She was exposed and imprisoned without her magic. They would find a way through this, they _would._


	21. Comfort and Joy

Emma called a bit before dinner (Rumplestiltskin only remembered that it was dinner time because he realized that they had left the diner without eating lunch and Bae and Belle must be hungry).

“What did she say?” he asked the Savior, dispensing with any greeting.

Emma, ever practical, did not seem to mind. “She kept making up things to explain how she survived. She doesn’t know, Gold.”

“… So someone intervened.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Regina thinks she’s after the Author, and I think she’s right. Zelena’s a part of this, Gold; whatever this thing is they’re planning with the Author.”

“A world written according to Zelena’s specifications…” He didn’t have words for how much that thought terrified him, but his curse had plenty to say. _Kill her! Kill her before she unmakes all of you!_

“Yeah, I know,” Emma said grimly. “But why would the gods want that? It’s Zelena; she doesn’t share. Wait… could the Author do that? Can he re-write things for the gods?”

“I… don’t know. According to Mr. Booth, the Author does not have to obey the laws of magic. The gods don’t either.”

“So if someone wanted to stage a coup, the Author might be able to pull it off.”

“Perhaps.”

“But where does Zelena come in?”

“I don’t know.” He truly didn’t. It made no sense. Zelena was petty and small minded - a mortal in every way. The gods would have nothing but disdain for her. She’d even… _wait._ “Ask her about Hades.”

“Hades - right. You said they had a run-in. But if they’re on bad terms, why would Hades want her in charge?”

“Perhaps there is more to it than I realized. If Hades had truly been offended by her, she’d be dead; perhaps he let her live specifically because he planned to use her this way.”

“Sounds like a lead to me. But there’s one more thing I need to know.”

“What is it?” he asked warily.

“When did you know Marion was Zelena? Have you been sitting on this like you did the Hat?”

“Do you really think I would have allowed Zelena to wander free and then pinned her in a diner? I did not know until today.”

“OK. But you suspected; that’s why you left the Sorcerer’s mansion as soon as she showed up, isn’t it?

“I did not-” _She had no right to question you! Silence her! Make her fear you!_ “I do not need to explain myself to you, Miss Swan.”

“… You thought you were imagining it. Shit, Gold, I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t require your pity, Miss Swan.”

“It’s not pity to admit I screwed up. Look, I’d like to start up our lessons again if you’re willing. Zelena got by me; I don’t want that to ever happen again.”

The Savior apologizing to the Dark One. He felt an almost hysterical urge to laugh. “… When you call back with the results of your interrogation, we can discuss it.”

“OK, Gold. I’ll let you know when I have something.”

“Have a good evening, Emma.”

“You too.”

Too many surprises. Too many changes. The threads of fate now seemed as tangled up as the Gordian Knot, and each new revelation only seemed to add a new snarl to the mess. Perhaps that was the point; to drown them in twists and misdirections so they would not see the endgame until it was too late. He’d certainly done his share of that once upon a time. The only way to untangle such a knot was to cut through it. But how did one cut through this?

Belle smiled at him and asked kindly, “What did Emma say?”

“Zelena does not know how she survived Ingrid’s attack. Most likely, it was due to the gods’ intervention.”

“And you suspect Hades.”

“Perhaps. He has had contact with her; I know that. Emma will call back when she has learned more. Are either of you hungry?”

“Yes,” Bae said immediately. Belle shrugged.

“I should have something.”

That was worrying. Belle rarely lacked enthusiasm for meals, even when they’d spent last winter eating rations at Regina’s castle. “What would you like? Name it,” he said, trying to spark her interest.

She glanced at him, and her eyes very clearly said that what she would like was for him to partake of the meal, but she didn’t say that. “Whatever you feel like making is fine.”

He saw defeat in her posture and her tone, and he realized that she’d given up; she didn’t expect that he could do it, and so had resigned herself. He’d hurt her _\- don’t I always?_

_Love is weakness._

_Fuck off._

“How about a stir fry?” he asked her.

“Sure.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

He was tired. Tired of letting her down. Tired of feeling this way. Tired of the gods meddling in their lives as if they had the right. He didn’t know how to stop it - how to cut the Gordian Knot - but he could at least honor her unspoken request. If he had to use magic to keep himself from being sick, he would choke down this meal for her sake.

XxXxXxX

“You’re back! How wonderful,” Zelena said. Emma didn’t believe in starving prisoners, so she’d been given a dinner from Granny’s while Emma called Gold then conferred with Regina and David. The two of them had been trading off the role of Emma’s interrogation partner (Regina would shape up to be a hell of a bad cop if she could manage to keep her temper), but Emma persuaded them to let her go in alone this time. The room was bugged, so they could hear what was said.

“How was the lasagna?”

Zelena wrinkled her nose in what she probably thought was a royal affectation. She could never do royal like Regina. “Greasy,” she said.

“I’ll pass that along to Granny,” Emma said dryly, taking a seat. “So… Hades.”

Zelena froze. “What about him?”

“Gold says you had a run-in with him at some point.”

Her smile twitched. “Did he?”

“Yup. He’s got a theory; want to hear it?”

“Why not? It’s getting a bit boring trapped in this room.”

“He thinks Hades let you live for a reason; that’s he’s using you. What do you think about that?”

Zelena let out two fierce breaths, like a bull preparing to charge. “I knew it!”

“You want to tell me about it?”

She glared, the look in her eyes unhinged. “It’s none of _your_ concern.”

Emma leaned back casually; people like Zelena always started losing it when they didn’t think they were being taken seriously. “Actually, it is. You see, we’ve known for a while that the gods have been messing with us. They’ve got some big plan for all us mere mortals, and we’re not too happy about that. Sounds like Hades has something similar in store for you.”

“Something in store… and what does dear Rumple believe that is?”

“That’s what we were hoping you could tell us.”

“Oh! You need me! How wonderful. I’ll tell you what; I’ll tell you what Hades is planning, if you take this cuff off.”

“So you know what it is, then?”

“Of course,” she said cheerfully, but she knew she’d been caught out.

“You’re lying.”

Pouting, she slammed her hand on the tabletop. “I can help you.”

“How?”

She smiled, and it would have been charming if her eyes weren’t so brittle underneath. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Emma crossed her arms and shook her head. “No, no you won’t.”

Zelena huffed, pouting like a child. “Fine. If you can’t trust me, then clearly we’re done here. I’d like to go back to my cell please.”

She _was_ telling the truth about that; Zelena had no intention of cooperating. Fortunately, they still had their plan to bug the hospital, and Zelena now had a lot to think (and hopefully talk) about. Emma got up. “All right, then. On your feet.”

Zelena smiled demurely. “You could ask nicely.”

“Sure could, but I won’t. Do you want to get up, or do you want me to call Regina back in here? She’d love another crack at you.”

Pure hatred - Zelena’s glare was pure hatred. Emma had seen evil, and she had seen petty, but she’d never seen such a potent combination of both before. It was almost cartoonish. Slowly, petulantly, Zelena stood up. Emma roughly cuffed her hand behind her back. “If you change your mind about helping us - really helping us - you know where I am.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Zelena said with false cheer. As expected, she was lying.

XxXxXxX

There was nothing to do about Zelena except wait. Emma and Regina had come talk to Papa about their plan to bug the hospital, and he had agreed it was the best solution they had.

So they waited.

Christmas came.

The oversized tree, decorations throughout the house, and elaborate meal Bae knew Papa had planned should all have been clues, but neither Bae nor Belle were prepared for the sight of the living room on Christmas morning.

“Papa…” The room was filled with presents. Bae didn’t even know how Papa had acquired and wrapped them all without tipping them off. He’d asked Bae’s help ordering a laptop for Belle, and Bae had also expected there would be jewelry and books involved, but this…

“You’re not happy,” Papa said sadly. He didn’t even sound surprised, like he’d expected Bae to be mad but had hoped…

Bae hugged him. “I’m happy. We’re all here. I’m happy.”

Papa sniffed loudly and clung. He’d been clingy, and Bae couldn’t blame him in the least, but it hurt to see him like this day after day. Bae didn’t know the details of what Zelena had done, but he knew enough. It had been better when they’d thought she was dead. He _wanted_ her dead. He didn’t tell his father that. 

They pulled apart, and Belle stepped up for a hug of her own, smiling, giggling, and kissing Papa briefly. She was overselling it and they all knew it, but Papa did the same when he tried to pretend he had an appetite. In the end, the fact that they both tried so hard was probably what mattered the most.

Bae decided to do the same, and he set up the record player with the album Papa had played for him their first Christmas together. Papa had already made coffee and tea and set out pastries from the bakery. All three of them dug in before attacking the mountain of presents.

The sheer amount was indulgent and absurd, but after Belle gasped in genuine delight at the first unwrapped book (probably some rare first edition, knowing his father), Papa’s answering smile was also sincere and uncomplicated for the first time in… Bae didn’t know. Bae smiled too, diving into the presents with more vigor, determined to enjoy them for his father’s sake. Somewhere between the PlayStation and The Absolute League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, he realized they were all actually having fun.

His gift to his father was another drawing, a family portrait of the three of them. Papa cried when he opened it, but not from sadness (although Bae had panicked for a instant, afraid he'd undone all the progress they’d fought so hard for). Instead, he beamed through his tears, joyful, and Bae started to wonder if all the movies were right, and there really was something magical about Christmas.

XxXxXxX

The presents, the decorations, the food - Rumple had put so much of himself into this holiday, and Belle drifted through it as if it were a dream, unwilling to break the spell Rumple had somehow woven. 

But eventually, it got late. Despite herself, she began to nod off as they reached the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life. It was a sweet, charming story, brimming with the hope and positivity they all sorely needed, but she was tired. They were all tired. She glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Rumple said, almost sadly. She imagined he’d been living the day the same way that she had, refusing to think of everything that waited for them outside the pink house. She wished she could make the dream last a little longer.

“You’re probably right,” she admitted.

Bae got up, nodding and yawning widely. He hugged and thanked them both. “Merry Christmas, Papa. Merry Christmas, Belle.”

“Merry Christmas, Bae. Sleep well.”

“You too.” And he stumbled out of the den and up the stairs.

Rumple looked at her expectantly. She smiled sleepily and took his hand, leading him towards their room. “How did you manage all those presents?” she asked him coyly. 

“I had them shipped to Mr. Dove. I…may have used magic to transport them here last night,” he admitted hesitantly.

They’d reached the second story landing, and she turned around to face him. He looked nervous, like he expected a scolding, and she realized that for all her efforts to support him, there was one thing about him that she had never truly embraced. “Rumple…” He still didn’t like it when she touched his face, so she took his hands instead. “It’s all right to use magic. I’m sorry if I made you feel that it wasn’t. The darkness of your curse worries me, but not the magic. It’s a part of you, as much as spinning is a part of you.” He hadn’t touched his wheel since he’d been freed. _That_ worried her.

“The darkness is a part of me too,” he said quietly.

Her first instinct was to unilaterally deny it, but she’d learned in their sessions with Archie that that was not helpful. “You have darkness,” she admitted, “We all do, but you’ve said yourself that your curse has a separate consciousness.”

He nodded, conceding, and it killed her that she could not protect him from it. She’d asked him more than once to let her try to break it, but he’d decided that it was too dangerous, and she was sure that discovering that Zelena was alive had not changed his opinion.

She thought of the Hat and what a perfect trap it had been. From what they knew (or thought they knew), it would solve this problem, leaving Rumple his power without the evil voices of his curse. She was proud of Rumple for resisting it. Sometimes, she found herself considering it, and trying to think of a way to use it without killing anyone (Mary Margaret had found a way to cast the Dark Curse, after all), but what then? Did the Hat even do what they thought it did? Would the gods appear and demand that Rumple fight for them? 

Unwilling to follow that line of thought any further tonight, she kissed him and said, “I hope you told Dove what a lovely job he did wrapping.”

“Oh… I did the wrapping. Last night… while you were asleep.”

“More magic?” she asked impishly.

He shrugged. “Some.”

He was admitting something to her without admitting it. “It must have taken you hours.”

He shrugged again, nodding slightly. “A few.”

She squeezed his hands. “Do you do that often? Get up during the night?” He’d done it at least once before, she knew, when he’d tested the Hat. And he didn’t sleep. He had to find some way to fill those hours, didn’t he?”

“No.”

“No? Don’t you get bored, watching me sleep?”

He smiled shyly. “Never.”

She smiled back, but asked her real concern. “Do you get lonely?”

Hours. For hours every night, he lay awake with no companion except the voices of his curse. She didn’t know how he could possibly stand it. His throat bobbed as she swallowed. “That’s why I don’t get up. You’re there.”

He wasn’t trying to be cute or romantic. There was something desperate and raw in the way he said it, begging her to understand. She did. “Oh, Rumple.” She embraced him, kissing him fiercely and then resting her head on his shoulder. “I will always be there.”

XxXxXxX

The day had been… good. Yes, Regina would say it had been good. Henry had wanted everyone together for Christmas, and Robin had agreed that the crowd would be a good way to keep Roland’s mind off the fact that he’d essentially lost his mother for the second time. The Golds had declined, instead arranging a visit for Boxing Day, which was just fine as far as Regina was concerned. Henry and Roland had had fun, and Regina… she’d been happy. She’d belonged. Even Emma had pulled her aside for a minute to officially bury the hatchet. She’d finally admitted that she’d screwed up, and suddenly the resentment Regina had been harboring had faded away. 

Besides, they had bigger fish to fry. Regina never forgot that her happy ending could be taken away at any time, and with the gods, the Sorcerer, and the Author meddling in things, it was likely to happen sooner rather that later. Restless, Regina left Robin asleep in bed (he and Roland had moved in with her, the cabin containing too many memories of the false Marion), eventually ending up at the prison.

The giant had picked up a couple of shifts as a guard there. Regina had known this because he was now apparently dating Little John, and Robin was happy that his friend had found love after waiting many years for the right woman (or man, apparently). “Merry Christmas,” he said brightly. Maybe it was because he’d never been involved in her war, but he was more accepting of her than most. He didn’t blame her for tricking him, instead putting it all on her mother. She’d never bothered to correct him.

“Merry Christmas, although it’s not technically Christmas anymore.” She nodded to the clock on the wall. It was past midnight.

“I guess not! Did you need to see the prisoners… your sister?” he asked sympathetically. 

“Just making sure she’s where she’s supposed to me. She’s slippery.”

“I did a check at eleven, but we can do another one.”

She shook her head. “Don’t get up; I can handle it.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded.

Zelena had been put in Belle’s old cell. Rumple would probably appreciate the irony if he knew. It was late, but the snow magnified the moonlight, and when Regina lifted the hatch, she could clearly see Zelena sitting on the bed, gazing up at the window. Her head snapped around when she heard the door squeak.

“You’re not… Regina? So you came to gloat. And in the middle of the night too; well, that’s not suspicious or anything.”

It probably wasn’t wise, but Regina teleported into the room. “Merry Christmas, Sis.”

“Oh, I see. You had a happy, little holiday, but something was missing. Come to complete the celebration? Face it, Regina, you’re not one of them, and you never will be. You’re a villain, and that’s what you will always be.”

Disgusted, Regina shook her head. “No. People can change, you just keep telling yourself they can’t so you won’t be responsible. You could change if you wanted to, you just don’t want to. Well, I do. I did.”

Zelena laughed. “Is this what heroes do? Break into their prisoners’ cells late at night to finish them off?”

“I’m not here to finish you off.”

“Then why are you here? To gloat? Hardly heroic.”

Truthfully, Regina didn’t know why she was here. She deflected, shrugging. “Maybe I just wanted to say Merry Christmas to my big sister.”

“Oh, please. There’s no one to impress here, Regina, you don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending.” And she wasn’t. It made no sense. Zelena had threatened Henry, had come close to killing him, killing all of them. She’d tried to take Robin from her, and let him believe a terrible lie about his deceased wife - had actually killed her to do it. Regina should want her dead. But she didn’t. Maybe she was just tired. The puppet had been right about one thing: rage was exhausting.

Zelena sneered. “Oh. Oh, I see. Redemption, is that it? You’re going to redeem me? And then I’ll be ever so grateful to my little sister-”

“Shut up.”

“Why? Afraid to face the truth?”

“No. I think you are.”

“Oh? I’m in a cell. I’m powerless. What truth do you think I’m not facing?”

“That you’re the reason you’re here. Not me, not mother, _you._ You had just as much of a chance as anyone-”

“What chance did I have?! You have no idea! Mother _loved_ you!”

“Mother didn’t love anyone! She took out her own heart so she wouldn’t have to!” Silence. Regina had never admitted that before. She’d always blamed everyone else for Mother’s failings. Xavier. Snow. Rumple. But Cora had made her own choices. Cora had hurt her in a way no parent should ever hurt their child. And maybe that was why Regina was here; she’d done it to Zelena too.

“You should be grateful,” Regina said. “You’re alive. You have a chance to be better.”

More broken laugher. “From a cell?”

“Yes, from a cell. I was in a cell. It gave me time to think, reflect. Maybe you should do the same.”

“You’ve been in a couple of cells,” Zelena sneered. “The first few didn’t take.”

“That’s true. And that’s how I know it’s _never_ too late, not if you really want it.”

“And if I don’t?”

Regina smiled wryly. “Then you’ll still have a lot of time to think.” Zelena glared at her, for once out of words. “Good night, Sis. Merry Christmas.” She left.


	22. Progress

“So how was your Christmas?” Dr. Hopper asked.

“Very well, thank you. How was yours?”

“Very nice, thank you. I know you put a lot of preparation into the holiday; did it go the way you were expecting?” 

“More or less.”

“Can you expand on that?”

Rumplestiltskin sighed. He was here for this, but the repetitive questions became tiresome. “In the morning, we opened gifts, then we prepared the meal, and after that we watched movies.”

“How was the meal for you?”

“Fine.”

“‘Fine’ as in not distressing?”

Rumplestiltskin glared. The cricket knew that wasn’t what he had meant. “I was able to eat it. Belle was happy.”

“Did you have to resort to magic?”

He stroked Pongo’s head. The dog didn’t even bother with his bed in the corner anymore; he was always waiting by the couch when Rumplestiltskin arrived. “…Yes.”

“Have you discussed this with her?”

“She doesn’t ask.”

“How do you feel about that?” That was always the most difficult question. Rumplestiltskin could relate facts. He’d had to slowly learn how to simply lay them out instead of spinning them or holding back, but he could do it. But his own emotions were simply too… He didn’t even understand them himself most of the time. Saying them aloud not only exposed them, they made them… real. Too real. 

“I don’t want to hurt her,” he finally said.

“While that is a subject we have addressed before and we will revisit in the future, that’s not what I asked. But let’s break it down. How did you feel about using magic in this way?”

“It’s pathetic. And don’t tell me not to use that word; you asked me how I feel. That is how I feel,” he said, combatively.

“That’s right, I did, and I appreciate your candor. Would you prefer to get into why you feel that way, or would you like to move on for now?”

He answered that question by preemptively answering his next one. “I don’t like hiding things from her.”

“That’s good. Can you explain more about how it makes you feel?

“That she deserves better. But she deserves someone who isn’t broken in the first place. And don’t tell me I’m not broken!”

“You feel broken?”

“Yes! Yesterday was…”

“How was yesterday?”

“There were moments that seemed almost… normal. But that only brought it into relief. I’m tired! Tired of… plots and gods and… I don’t know why…” He would not cry. He would _not._ His curse laughed at him, taunting him to do it, and he _refused._

“You’ve made remarkable progress.”

He looked up. “What?”

“The first session you had with me, you were still in shock, almost numb. That numbness is wearing off. As you said, it took a moment of normalcy to bring these feelings into their full relief. The fact that that you are able to feel these feelings now in their entirety is progress. Excellent progress.”

“It doesn’t bloody well feel like it.”

“That’s typical. Many people become discouraged, actually, and withdraw from the pain. That you are facing it head on shows remarkable courage.”

“Don’t mock me,” he said, even as he knew the cricket never would.

“I’m not. We have discussed the use of the word ‘coward’ before. I will reiterate that not only do I not believe it is a very useful word, I don’t think it is at all accurate in this case. You’re showing remarkable dedication and courage in the face of a series of severe traumas. I want you to understand that.”

_He’s coddling you. You know what you are._

_Fuck off._

_More laughter. You know it’s true._

_FUCK OFF!_

“What are you thinking?”

“My curse is talking to me. I’m telling it to shut up.”

“What’s it saying to you?”

“Not to listen to you. It finds that possibility threatening.”

“How so?”

“It wants me to give up.” He found a sweet spot behind Pongo’s ears, and the Dalmatian woofed in contentment. Rumplestiltskin felt surprisingly lighter discussing his curse this way: calmly and matter-of-fact. He could not do this with his family. Bae was still afraid of it (had every right to be), and Belle always seemed to want to charge into battle against it. But it wanted that. It needled him to use the Hat towards that purpose. It was trying to provoke him, and his only option was to endure it. Only the Doctor seemed to understand that.

“Are you tempted to?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted quietly.

“What about right now?”

“Not right now,” he said, surprised to find it was true.

“That’s good. What are you feeling in this moment?”

“Anger.”

“Towards what?”

“My curse.”

“That’s good. Use that.”

Rumplestiltskin had been doing just that, but he was shocked that the cricket would suggest such a thing. “You’re advising me to fight darkness with darkness?”

The larger man adjusted his glasses. “You know, one of the things I learned from the first curse was that my previous notions of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ emotions were not necessarily correct. As a magic user, you’ve come to think of anger as a dark emotion, but from a psychological perspective, it’s simply a part of the human experience, and a necessary one at that. Anger is a motivator. Use it to motivate yourself to behave contrary to how your curse is directing you. You’ve been doing that for some time, haven’t you?”

“…You’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for.”

He smirked. “Thank you.” After giving him a minute to breathe, the good doctor brought the conversation back around. “We were talking about your eating habits.”

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin said peevishly.

“You don’t like using magic to help you eat.”

“No.”

“And you don’t like hiding the fact that you are doing so from Belle.”

“No.”

“But you’re doing both because you’re trying to make things easier on Belle.”

“Yes. She deserves that. She doesn’t deserve…” he cut himself off, knowing what the doctor would say. He wasn’t supposed to decide that for her. That’s what had brought them here in the first place, but by the gods, what was he supposed to do? He huffed, and Pongo whined slightly as Rumplestiltskin rubbed him too vigorously. He corrected himself immediately. “Sorry, boy.” The dog settled back down.

“Would you be willing to bring this up in a family session?”

“Not with Bae. He doesn’t need to know this.”

“With just Belle then?”

“She’ll be upset.”

“What do you think she will be upset about?”

“All of it. The entire situation.”

“Can you break it down for me?”

“She worries… about me. She wants me to be well, but I am _not_ well. She does not like it when I use magic - no, that’s not right. It’s the curse she hates, but it _is_ the source of my magic.”

“Have you discussed this with her?”

“Yes. Yesterday. She told me… she told me it was all right to use magic, that it’s a part of me. She actually apologized for not saying so sooner.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Touched. But I don’t think she truly understands.”

“What don’t you think she’s understanding?”

“The curse is a separate consciousness, yes, but I accepted it. Twice. I am the Dark One, as much as the curse is. It’s mine as much as I am its.”

“Do you want to be?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? “If there were any way to use the Hat… but all magic comes at a price. I should have remembered that,” he said humorlessly.

“If the Hat had never existed, and it were safe to have Belle break your curse - if you knew it would never come back or harm anyone again - would you choose to break it?”

“It’s not safe.”

“But if it were.”

“I need it. Without it, I can’t eat or sleep. If I were mortal that could become a bit of a problem.”

“Suppose you didn’t need it for that. Suppose it’s a year from now, and your symptoms are under control, and you knew it was safe. What would you choose?”

“I would let her break it. I agreed to do it; that was my deal with Bae. Belle would want me to as well.”

“If the only opinion that mattered was your own, what would you do?”

“That hypothetical is so contrived it’s useless to speculate.”

“Indulge me.”

“If I could choose…” What would he choose? He’d been without his curse, and he’d ached for the feeling of power again. But on the other hand, he hadn’t felt a hairsbreadth from losing his mind. “I don’t know.”

“I’d like you to spend some time thinking about it. As we established, your feelings about your curse influence how you respond to it; I think it’s vital to clarify that issue going forward.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Very well. I will think about it.”

They went back to the issue of Belle. After some back and forth, the cricket convinced Rumplestiltskin to bring Belle in for a discussion with just the three of them. He made no promises regarding how much he would tell her, however, even as he knew that she would find a way to drag it all out of him regardless. The thought was vaguely terrifying and strangely comforting all at the same time.

The session ended, and he shook the Doctor’s hand and bid farewell to Pongo. He passed the diner on his way back to the shop, and he spotted Donna through the window, now decades younger than her son and sure to outlive him - possibly even her grandson too. And then he remembered: as the Dark One, he was eternal. Bae and Belle were not.

He had his answer to the Doctor’s question, and somehow, it wasn’t the one he’d feared.

XxXxXxX

Zelena knew that her sister had to be watching her, to gloat if nothing else. It made planning her escape more difficult, but Zelena was determined. Regina’s visit had given her an idea, shown her a weakness in her sister that she could exploit, but she needed more information. She just had to be careful how she went about it.

“Hello, lassie,” Malcolm gloated. They were given two hours each day out of their cells to exercise and talk to each other. The former King Gorge always studiously ignored them both, but Malcolm seemed determined to amuse himself by taunting her. But today, that could prove useful.

She gave him a sharp smile. “Seen your son lately?” she teased.

He snorted. “Hardly. The cowardly, little shite lets the lady Sheriff do the talking for him.”

“And what has she had to say?”

He leered at her. “What’s it worth to you?”

“Nothing I’d give you,” she sneered.

He shrugged. “Your loss.” She laughed at his audacity. He was undeterred. He sat next to her, entirely without invitation (as she had expected him to). “Come now,” he said quietly, “You’re as bored as I am; admit it.”

“I’ve really never in my life been that bored, _Peter Pan_.”

He leaned forward, conspiratorially. “You want out of here. You want your power back.” He eyed the shackle on her wrist. Rumple had devised it; he’d had the Savior put it there to prevent anyone from removing cuff that suppressed her magic. It was heavy, and it chafed, and she was sure that was intentional.

She drummed her fingers on the table. “Just what are you proposing?”

“I’m a fair hand with locks, lassie.”

“And suppose you do get this cuff off - what then?”

He smiled in a way that reminded her of her father. “Well, I thought I’d leave that up to you. They don’t have that cuff on you because you’re harmless.”

She smiled. She didn’t think for a moment that he’d actually be able to get the cuff off, but she needed him to _try._ “You free me, and I free us both? Is that your proposal?”

“Aye.”

“And if you fail?”

He shrugged. “You have as much time as I do. They’re soft on prisoners here.”

“Including my sister?” she asked skeptically, although she knew it was true. Regina had gone soft.

He grinned. “She’s not the Queen anymore, is she?”

“True. Very well.” She presented her wrist, and he took it.

XxXxXxX

“You sister is boring,” Emma said. Their idea to bug the prison had seemed sound at the time, but they were struggling to keep up. At first, they’d assume the two hours a day she had with Malcolm and George would give them somewhere to start, but after Zelena kept brushing Malcolm off, they’d started going through the other stuff in case she was communicating with someone outside that time or had developed a convenient habit of talking to herself (unfortunately, she had not). Even with David and Regina helping, and using video surveillance to cut out the time when Zelena was sleeping, it was a lot of recording to sort through.

Regina snorted. “For once, we agree on something.”

“Isn’t there some sort of magic that could speed this up?”

“If there is, you’d have to talk to Rumple, and believe me, he’ll make you pay for it.” But she said it almost fondly. Apparently, exposing Zelena had done a lot to improve Regina’s opinion of Gold. 

“Shh!” David said, pressing his hand to his headphones, “I think I’ve got something.”

Emma and Regina abandoned their stations to crowd around him. He kept nodding, and then he hit pause and rewind and unplugged his headset. “They made a deal. Listen to this.”

It started with Malcolm’s usual slimy overtures followed by Zelena’s brusque dismissals. But this time, he was actually able to catch her interest. By the end, Malcolm was cursing softly as he struggled with the lock, and then the guards came to take them back to their cells. As the recording ended, they all exchanged looks. “Malcolm won’t be able to pick that thing, right?” Emma asked. “Gold used magic to make it.”

“Malcolm has centuries of magical knowledge; more than Rumple, even,” Regina said. “And he’s right; he has the time. As much as we are willing to give them anyway. We can’t risk her getting out; we have to separate them.”

“But they’re finally talking now. This was what we were waiting for.”

“What good is that if she gets out?”

“Can we monitor the integrity of the lock?” David asked. “I think Emma’s right; Zelena isn’t revealing anything on her own, and Malcolm will keep asking questions.”

“Call Gold,” Regina said, and Emma was surprised that she conceded so quickly. _Maybe she really has mellowed out._ “He’ll tell you it’s not worth the risk.” _Or maybe not._

Still, he was the only option. “It’s his lock,” Emma conceded, pulling out her phone.

XxXxXxX

“Hello, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin said.

Zelena jumped. He tried to find the satisfaction in it, but he only wanted to be out of there. She rallied, smiling at him, but he could see the nervousness underneath. “Hello, Rumple. Did you miss me?”

“No,” he said flatly. “Show me your wrist.” When Emma had called him, it had spurred an intense discussion between himself, Emma, Regina, and Charming. Rumplestiltskin had agreed with Regina that it was simply too dangerous to allow even the small possibility that Malcolm would be able to help Zelena escape, but Emma had made a strong argument that this could be their only chance to learn what Zelena (and possibly Malcolm) knew. He’d agreed to at least examine the cuff before making his final decision.

She rubbed the shackle and looked at him coyly. “I missed you. Robin isn’t as… _attentive_ as you are.”

_Kill her. Rip her organs from her body and watch the life drain out of her._

“Show me your wrist,” he repeated in the cold tones of Mr. Gold. Zelena had never met Mr. Gold. She may have undone Rumplestiltskin, but she was nothing to Mr. Gold.

“All right… for a kiss.” _Kill her._ Break her!

He twisted his fingers and immobilized her. _KILL HER! RIP HER APAPRT!_ He grabbed her wrist and examined the cuff. “No,” he said curtly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see hers gaze into him, and the chants of _KILL HER! KILL HER!_ only got louder and louder. 

The cuff was unaltered, whatever tools Malcolm had been able to scrounge up useless against his magic.

But he didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust _her._ But they did need that information. His mind raced, scrambling for a solution, and then he remembered: she owed him a favor. And the consequences of refusing him would protect them all. He took a step back.

“There is very little I desire more than to never lay eyes on you again,” he told her. “So I’m going to ask you, as a favor, not to allow anyone to tamper with that shackle. I don’t want to be called back here to look at it.” He snapped his fingers, and she could move again.

“Rumple-”

“Goodbye, dearie.” He left the same way he came, leaving a thick smoke behind for her to choke on.

XxXxXxX

_Ha!_

Rumple had fallen right into her trap. Once she was able to catch her breath, Zelena leaned against the wall. She ran her fingers along the shackle, grinning.


	23. Clodhearted

Zelena waited a few days before enacting her plan. She had to be certain that the heroes would not be willing to simply let her die. She told Malcolm they were being watched and that he should use the time to find better tools. He grumbled about it but conceded to wait.

Another holiday came and went - this world’s New Year. From the high windows in her cell, Zelena had been able to see flashes of color and light as the town celebrated with fireworks. It gave her an idea.

She requested a pen and paper and started writing her sister. She knew Regina would not believe a straightforward display of contrition - and Zelena was still blindingly angry - so the letters were not kind at first. But over time, she worked on hiding that anger ( _always put on a brave face_ ). She started writing about regret and family, and after half a dozen letters, Regina finally paid her another visit.

“What do you want, Zelena?” she asked bluntly.

“What makes you think I want anything?” she asked evasively.

“Why do you keep writing me?”

“Who else would I write to? You’re my sister.”

“Are you sorry? Really sorry? For any of it?”

“Are you?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Yes, it is. It always has been. What Mother did? What Rumple did? It was all for you!”

“No, it wasn’t! How can you still not understand this? Rumple did what he did to find his son, and Mother did what she did for herself. I was a tool to them. Is that really what you wanted?”

“Better to be wanted for what I could do for them than to be tossed aside.”

“Are you sure about that? Mother took my freedom and my first love. Rumple took my innocence-”

“At least you had innocence!”

“And you had a second chance, free and clear. We talked to your former flying monkeys, you know; we know what Glinda offered you. And let me tell you, whatever it is you wanted from Mother and Rumple, they would never have given you the family you could have had with Glinda.”

“She replaced me! With Dorothy,” Zelena spat.

“She was going to make her the Witch of the West?” Regina asked skeptically. 

“It was only a matter of time! No one chooses me!”

“So you don’t know. You went for a preemptive strike.”

“I knew! It’s what always happens! Even when I wasn’t myself, Robin chose you!”

“And you want me to feel bad for that? You deceived him!”

“And you enslaved the Huntsman! Don’t pretend you’re better than me, Regina! You’re more of a villain than I ever was; at least I never slaughtered whole villages! And now you’re out there, and I’m in here! Tell me, where is the justice in that?!”

“I made myself better,” Regina spat. “I clawed my way out of the darkness. I gave up everything to save my son. But you don’t know what that’s like; you’ve never cared for anyone but yourself!”

“How could I when no one loved me?!”

“Glinda did. Your adopted mother did. You just didn’t notice because you wanted more.”

“And you killed your father because you wanted more! Don’t tell me we’re not the same!”

She didn’t have an answer for that - _Ha!_ “Maybe we were,” she eventually admitted. “But I’m different now. Maybe you should try it too.”

“How, when I’m stuck in here?”

“Start by taking ownership. You’re here because if _you._ Stop blaming everyone else. You can do that from here.”

“Is that what you did?” Zelena sneered.

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” Zelena taunted. And from the expression on her face, Zelena knew Regina didn’t believe it either.

“Well, that’s something else to work on, then.” And she left, mocking her by using magic to transport herself away. Back to Robin. Back to the life that should have been Zelena’s.

And _would_ be.

XxXxXxX

Emma got the call in the middle of her lesson with Gold. “Sheriff Swan, here.”

“Sheriff, we have an emergency with one of the prisoners,” Gaston said.

“Who?”

“Zelena. She collapsed and said her heart is freezing. She insists that she is going to die.”

“I’ll be right there.” She hung up. “Zelena tried to get the cuff off,” she told Gold. 

Emma probably should have been horrified when Gold had come back and told them exactly how he’d ensured Zelena would not be able to remove the cuff. Regina had been pissed, David and Mary Margaret scandalized, but Emma had found it difficult to have any sympathy. Zelena had been given multiple chances and only seemed to come back more dangerous each time. She’d been warned what would happen, and frankly Gold had shown a lot of restraint. He could have used that favor to make life very unpleasant for her; instead all he’d asked was for her to not to try to escape. 

Of course, knowing Gold, he’d probably guessed she would not be able to resist. “Now what?” she asked him. 

“Regina and your parents will probably want to know.”

They did.

“I told you this would happen!” Regina shouted at Gold. He and Emma had found her waiting outside the hospital doors. David and Mary Margaret had volunteered to call her; Emma probably owed them dinner for that.

“I never denied it,” he said. 

“You could have found a better way! Admit it; you planned this!”

“I did not,” he said. 

“Liar!”

“He’s not,” Emma said. “He didn’t plan it. This isn’t his fault; Zelena chose to ignore his warning.”

“So much for heroes not killing,” Regina said snidely.

“We’re not killing her. Ingrid’s spell is,” Gold said. “She had protection from it - secured under false pretenses, I might add - and she chose to throw it away. We are under no obligation to rescue her from her own stupidity.”

“This is what you were hoping for, wasn’t it?” Regina asked acidly.

“I may have been, at that.”

“I knew it!”

“That’s irrelevant,” Emma said, cutting her off. “Hoping someone will make a bad choice isn’t a crime. The question is: what do we do now? If she dies, she takes all her information about Hades with her. Are you sure more of that True Love potion won’t work?” she asked Gold.

“She already has it in her veins; she robbed it of its potency by breaking her word. It can’t help her now. I suggest you talk to her; get as much information as you can before she expires.”

“There is one way to save her,” Regina said. 

“How?”

“Send her across the town line. Ingrid’s magic is powerless there.”

“You want to let her _go_?” Emma demanded.

“It will be a banishment. She’ll be without magic, unable to return.”

“No,” Gold said. “You _cannot_ release her.” 

“You can’t let her die!”

“Wait,” Emma said, “What if that’s her plan?”

“What do you mean? You think she’s trying to get banished?” 

“Think about it. She knows us. She knows how we operate. She knew we’d try to save her life; what if she triggered this on purpose to get us to let her go?”

They all exchanged looks. “Yes,” Gold said. “She’s been sending letters to you, Regina, hoping to garner your sympathy. It’s why the waited; she had to be sure someone would speak for her.”

“You’re just saying that because you want her dead!”

“There’s a very simple way to determine the truth of the matter.” He looked at Emma.

“I’m not willing to let her die based on a hunch. But if you’re right… she had to have something up her sleeve. I won’t risk her coming after Henry. Let’s go,” Regina said, grabbing the door.

Emma nodded. “Let’s just hope she can still talk.”

XxXxXxX

They found Gaston waiting in Zelena’s cell, sitting by her bedside. He jumped up when they opened the door and nodded to them both. “Sheriff, Dowager Queen Regina.”

“Dowager?” Emma asked Regina.

“Now is not the time for a lesson on royal titles. Can you speak?” she asked her sister.

Zelena had frost on her lips and white streaks in her hair. “Yes,” she said faintly, as she struggled to sit up. “You came.” Her tone was softly surprised, and Regina wanted to trust it - but didn’t.

“We’re not in the habit of letting prisoners die in custody,” Emma said. “But then you knew that, didn’t you?”

“I’m not terribly familiar with the laws of this land.” That was an evasive answer if Regina had ever heard one. She sighed. _Why does Rumple always have to be right?_

“But you are familiar with magic,” Emma responded. “You knew this would happen if you let anyone mess with the cuff. Why’d you do it?”

“Don’t most prisoners want to escape?”

Regina and Emma shared a look. “Before we do a single thing to help you, you’re going to answer a couple of questions for me,” Emma said.

“Ask them quickly,” Zelena said, “I doubt I have much time left.” And that was a blatant ploy for sympathy. Regina felt like an utter idiot. _How could I possibly have given her a second chance? I put Henry at risk - for what? A sister who hates me?_

“Did you let Malcolm mess with the cuff specifically to trigger this?” Emma asked. Zelena froze ( _no pun intended_ ). She’d been caught out and she knew it.

“Why would you think that?”

“Just answer the question. Yes or no?”

“No.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Are you certain? You little superpower has not exactly been infallible lately.”

“It caught you.”

“Only after Rumple laid it all out for you. Where is he?”

“That’s none of your business. What was your plan? Did you want us to send you across the town line?” 

“He’s convinced you to let me die, hasn’t he? You let the Dark One join your inner circle, and now he’s pulling the strings. Will you let him manipulate you into taking a life?”

That sounded familiar. Regina had said similar things, more than once. It took her a long time to figure out how much of it had been genuine mistrust of Rumple and how much had been projection. But this, this was just a flimsy attempt at misdirection. “Listen, you fool,” she said, “If you want any prayer of getting out of this alive, just answer the questions! Why did you want us to send you across the town line?”

Zelena laughed humorlessly. “It’s better than a cell, isn’t it?”

“That’s not an answer. Why did you want to be sent across the town line? What were you going to do once we did?”

Zelena looked at her sardonically, but Regina could see fear underneath. “Hopefully get a decent meal,” she said.

“Let’s go,” Emma said with surprising coldness. “If she’d rather die than explain herself, we should respect that.”

David and Mary Margaret would pitch a fit of they overheard their daughter suggest such a thing, but they weren’t here. For the first time, Regina felt a true sense of camaraderie with the Savior. Maybe she had just lost the possibility of a sister, but perhaps she had more friends than she thought. “You’re right,” she said, and she turned go.

“Wait! You can’t mean that!”

“Why not? You know the way out of this; it’s not our fault if you choose not the take it,” Emma said.

“You won’t let me die. Your precious, pure heart would be darkened; the Author would have his ink.”

Unfortunately, Emma was not a good enough liar to hide the startled look she sent Regina. “Fine,” Regina said. “I’ll put you under a sleeping curse. You won’t die, but it won’t be pleasant for you. There’s the risk of someone waking you up, but forgive me for saying I think it’s a long shot.”

“I thought you were a hero now?” Zelena needled. 

“I’m saving your life. Don’t like the offer, don’t take it. And if you die, it’s not on Emma, it’s on me. I think we all know my heart can take the ding.” She looked at Emma. “Wait here; I’ll be back.” She raised her hand to teleport away, and Zelena finally blinked.

“Wait!”

“Yes?” Regina asked mildly.

“There is something that can save me. It’s in New York. I’ll tell where if you’ll take me there to get it.”

“That was you plan?” Emma asked. “Get kicked out, go to New York, come back?”

“Yes,” she finally admitted.

“And team up with the Author too, right? That’s why you brought up the ink.”

“Yes! Fine! I’ve answered your questions. You have to take me there!”

Emma looked up the Regina. “Up for a road trip?”

Regina smirked. “You know, I think I am.”

XxXxXxX

_DAMN IT! DAMN IT ALL!_

Zelena had been so close! She wouldn’t even have had to honor her agreement with Malcolm, as her escape would have been of her own devising. Now she was trapped with both her sister and the Savior, and they were debating whether to bring Rumple along as well.

“You should stay here, Gold,” Emma said. “With me and Regina gone, David and Mary Margaret might need another magic user if something goes down.”

Rumple stared at her, and Zelena was too angry to be delighted by the fear he was trying to hide. “You’re probably right,” he conceded.

“Then let’s go,” Regina said. “No offense to the bug, but we can take my car.”

“No offense taken; always wanted to drive a Mercedes,” Emma said.

“Who says you’re driving?”

“You will, once we get down towards Boston. It’s a long trip.”

“I’ve been to Boston.”

“With Zelena in the back seat?”

“Fair point.”

“I don’t care what car you take,” Zelena said, “Just spare me this back and forth. We’re under something of a time crunch if you recall.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the Savior said, grabbing her arm. “On you feet. Get your car,” she told Regina, “We’ll meet you out front.” Regina nodded and vanished.

“Finally,” Zelena said. She could feel the ice creeping through her body. It was already difficult to walk.

The Savior took the opportunity to grill her on where they were going. Rumple, of course, immediately realized that she was talking about the Elixir of the Wounded Heart, and there was really no hiding anything after that.

“Is that something you can brew?” the Savior asked him. “The drive aside, I don’t really like the idea of taking Zelena to New York.”

“Unfortunately not,” he said. “I never obtained the recipe. Unless you’d like to make a deal, dearie?” he asked Zelena mockingly.

“I don’t know how to brew it; it was part of the Wizard’s collection.”

“She’s telling the truth,” the Savior said. “Bummer. Wait - how did you send Walsh here with all that stuff? Earth travel isn’t easy.”

“Why should I tell you that?”

“Because you need me to get to New York.”

“We bargained for the location of the potion, nothing more. Does the Savior go back on her word?”

The blonde looked her up and down, disgusted. Zelena didn’t care; she was used to the good people of the world looking down on her. “Don’t worry,” the Savior said. “It’s six hours down and six back; you’ll have plenty of time to decide to be cooperative.”

Zelena rolled her eyes.

It felt like an interminable amount of time before Regina pulled up in her shiny, black car. The Savior shoved Zelena roughly into the back seat and made some asinine comment while Regina glared at her over her shoulder. Zelena looked pointedly out the window, and her last view of the hospital included Rumple standing on the steps, holding his cane primly in front of him. 

She hated him. She hated them all. She would not be defeated. As soon at the Elixir passed her lips, she would find a way to free herself and return to Storybrooke for the Author. She deserved a happy ending. And he would write her one.


	24. Family Matters

Regina felt it when the passed the town line. Emma must have too, because she turned around to look at Zelena. “You still alive back there?”

Zelena took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said firmly. “The magic has been neutralized.”

“OK.” Emma turned back around and flicked on the radio.

Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No.5 faded into static as she fiddled with the knobs. “Don’t touch that,” Regina said.

“You’ll lose the signal soon anyway.”

“Fine. Just don’t put it on country.”

“You have something against country?” she asked teasingly.

“For a six hour drive I do.”

“ _…But it’s not my state of mind_  
I’m not as ugly, sad as you  
Or am I origami, folded up and just pretend  
Demented as the motives in your head…*”

“This works,” Emma said.

“That sounds atrocious,” Zelena complained.

Regina looked at Emma. “It will do.”

XxXxXxX

“I’m going to the picnic, and I’m bringing an apple, a blue-ray of the Empire Strikes Back, a crystal goblet, a dreidel, an elephant ear plant, and…. my firstborn son,” Emma said.

Regina was tempted to snicker. “I’m going to the picnic, and I’m bringing an apple, a blue-ray of the Empire Strikes Back, a crystal goblet, a dreidel, an elephant ear plant, your firstborn son, and-”

“Oh, for goodness sake! It’s bad enough to be trapped in this car with the two of you, will you stop this annoying game!”

“You could always tell us what you know,” Emma told Zelena, “That would pass the time.”

In the rearview, Regina could see Zelena’s sardonic glare. “I’d say that was a nice try, but it really wasn’t.”

“Fine. Suit yourself. It’s up to G, Regina.”

“Hm… my green sister,” she said.

Emma did snicker. Zelena fumed.

XxXxXxX

“There’s a Dunkin’ Doughnuts coming up. Let’s stop there; I could use a coffee,” Emma said. “And a doughnut.”

“Maybe we should stop somewhere with real food?” Regina suggested, “We still have to make the trip back.”

“It’s dinner time, isn’t it? It’s fine, they have breakfast sandwiches all day. A bacon, egg, and cheese on an English muffin actually sounds great right about now.”

“Do they have anything that’s not solid grease?”

“Uh, egg whites on a wrap? We’re probably not going to do better than that with fast food, and I don’t want to take Zelena inside.”

“I require the use of a water closet,” Zelena said.

“A what?”

“A bathroom,” Regina clarified. 

“I don’t suppose I can ask you to hold it, huh?” Emma asked.

“Not unless you’d like to be cleaning my sister’s seats,” she said snidely.

“Gross. Fine.” She turned to Regina. “You can order, I’ll take her. We’ll be in and out in ten minutes.

Regina nodded. “All right.”

Regina had a spare jacket of Henry’s in her car, and they put that over Zelena’s cuffed hands. Regina stiffly admitted that she needed the bathroom too, and Emma let her go first. “Any windows?” Emma asked quietly when she emerged.

Regina shook her head. “No.”

“Good. Go order.” Regina nodded. Zelena sauntered into the bathroom, objecting indignantly when Emma followed her in, closing the door behind her.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure that the only thing you do in here is pee.” 

“What else do you expect me to do? Climb out the nonexistent window?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. I’ve dealt with enough fugitives not to underestimate a person with nothing left to lose. Are you going to pee or not?”

“I could scream. Tell these people you’ve kidnapped me.”

“You’re in cuffs and I have a badge. Now, are you going to pee, or are we going back to the car?”

Zelena glared at her hatefully, angry at being thwarted. Slowly, she reached under her skirt to pull down her underwear. Emma smirked and crossed her arms. “I’d say it was a nice try, but it really wasn’t.”

XxXxXxX

“We’re almost there,” Emma said.

“Oh, thank God,” Regina muttered. Out of sheer stubbornness, she’d refused to relinquish the wheel, but she was tired, she was irritated, and big city driving was far worse than she remembered. It hurt her pride, but she would be giving Emma a chance to drive on the way back.

“So where is this potion?” Emma asked Zelena.

Zelena had mostly shut up after their dinner stop, other than to complain about the meal Regina has ordered for her (egg white wrap, just as Regina had ordered for herself) and the fact that Regina had not ordered her a doughnut. The word “brat” featured prominently in Regina’s current inner monologue, and she was anxious to hurry up and get home. “Can’t you guess?” Zelena asked petulantly.

“No games, Zelena. My heart isn’t the one that’s going to freeze if we turn around right now and head back to Storybrooke,” Emma said.

“More threats, tsk, tsk. What would your parents think?”

“Cut the crap, Zelena,” Regina snapped. “The deal was your life for the location of the potion. If you want to live, stop acting like a spoiled child.”

“I’m spoiled? I’m not sure I’ve ever had a tantrum that comes close to your crowning achievement, sister dear.”

“Last chance,” Emma said. “Where is the damned potion?”

Zelena sighed dramatically. “Where you would expect it to be if you’d thought about it for just a moment: at Walsh’s shop. I trust you remember where that is?”

Emma growled and turned back around to glare straight ahead. “You’re going to want to take exit 6A, on to 678.” 

The route took them through Manhattan into Brooklyn. Emma directed her off the highway. As they wound through the streets, Regina spotted, among other things, a sign for the New York City Aquarium. 

Emma found a place for them to park, and they hid Zelena’s handcuffed wrists with Henry’s jacket again. She took a firm grasp of Zelena’s upper arm and marched her down the sidewalk to the shop. Regina held on to Zelena while Emma examined the door.

“There’s a security system,” she said. “What’s the code?” she asked Zelena.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“Your magic doesn’t work out here.”

“It doesn’t need to. You want the potion? Give me the code.”

“And if I give you the wrong one?” 

“I still have a badge. If NYPD shows up, they won’t be siding with you, Zelena, just wasting our time.”

“Try 0715,” Regina suggested. Zelena stiffened, and neither Regina nor Emma missed it.

“How’d you know that?” Emma asked.

“It’s my birthday,” Regina answered.

“You should really talk to a therapist about your unhealthy obsession,” Emma told Zelena as she disabled the alarm and picked the lock. Emma held the door as Regina pushed Zelena through. The place was caked in dust and appeared mostly empty. 

“You’d think someone in a city this size would notice the proprietor went missing,” Regina observed.

“Good point,” Emma said, “But the bigger question is how he got this space at all. How did you pull that one off?” 

Zelena just smirked. “The potion is in the drawer of the desk.”

Emma huffed, but retrieved it, while Regina kept a hand on Zelana and looked around. At first glance, she could see several objects that were more than they appeared to be; there had to be more. “There’s more magic here,” she said. “We should it with us.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed reluctantly. “Gold should probably take a look at it; let us know what else they brought over.”

“That and we shouldn’t leave it unattended. Eventually, someone will come to investigate, and I think we learned with Owen and Tamara that magic and people from this world don’t mix.”

“I’ll find some boxes. In the meantime…” Emma grabbed Zelena’s wrist and led her to a heavy, carved chair in the corner.

“What are you doing? You found the potion; give it to me!”

“You don’t need it until we cross the border into Storybrooke; you’ll get it then. The faster Regina and I get this stuff packed up, the faster we’ll be back, and I don’t trust you not to run off.” She unlocked one cuff and snapped it around the armrest of the chair. “Sit tight. You don’t want to make me run after you.”

Zelena glared, fuming. “One of us has to stay in this room at all times,” Regina said.

“Agreed. Start gathering stuff up; you know what’s magical more than me. I’ll try to find us some boxes.”

XxXxXxX

It took a couple of hours to scour the shop. Zelena whined for another chance to use the bathroom (granted), and snidely offered to help (denied). Her running commentary got on Emma’s last nerve, and she finally snapped, grabbing a roll of Duck Tape and solving the problem.

“Mph! Mm-mph!”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Regina asked.

“You were probably trying to figure out a magic way to do it. But on this side of the town line, Duck Tape _is_ the most powerful magic. Are we almost done?”

“As far as I can see. There are probably more items squirrelled away, but without Zelena’s, help, I don’t think we’ll find them.”

“Keep looking while I take the boxes to the car.”

“Wait. There’s something else.”

“What?”

“There are two more magic users in New York. I don’t know how willing they’ll be, but they might be able to help us.”

“Who? Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“Cruella and Ursula. I’d forgotten until I saw the sign for the aquarium; Ursula works there.”

“Gold mentioned them. How did they get to New York?”

“They got banished here before my curse was cast; I don’t know by whom. Mal and I found them through the crystal ball Baelfire traded to me back before she vanished. They might know something.”

Emma looked at Zelena, clearly weighing the risks of gallivanting around New York with her in tow. “You can watch her,” Regina said. “They’re more likely to talk to me anyway.”

“No, I should be there.”

“What about Zelena? You’re going to need me to make introductions.”

Emma braced her hands on her hips. “How easy will this be? Are your friends with them, or did you have a falling out? As I recall, you and Maleficent weren’t exactly on great terms around the time the curse was cast.”

Regina pursed her lips. “They may require some… persuading. And I’m not exactly sure where Cruella is, I just know she’s in New York.”

“So this is going to take a few days. You know what? Let me call David. He and Tink or August can come down to pick her up. Might be a good idea to have Tink look at this place, too.”

Regina nodded. “Good idea.”

Emma dialed.

“Emma, how’s it going? Did you find the potion?” David asked.

“Yeah, and some other stuff for Gold to take a look at. Listen, Regina thinks there are a couple of people in town that could help us. We need a few days to track them down, so I need you and Tink to drive down and pick up Zelena. If you want help with the driving, call August too; he won’t mind a road trip.”

“OK. Who these people?”

“Cruella and Ursula. Apparently Regina and Maleficent figured out they were here in New York back before Maleficent vanished. She’s not sure what they know, but between Ingrid, Walsh, and the Dragon, magic users being sent to Earth screams red flag. Who sent them here and why? We need to find out.” Emma’s explanation was met by silence. “David? You there?”

“You don’t need to talk to them,” David said. “Just get the potion and come back.”

“What? David, did something happen?”

“No, but you should stay away from them. They’re villains, like Ingrid. Maybe they were sent there for a reason; to influence you like Ingrid and Walsh.”

“What are you talking about? Walsh was only able to get under my radar because I didn’t have my memories, and Ingrid knew me when I sixteen. Besides, Regina knows them; it’s not like I’m alone out here. Do you know them? Did they do something to you guys?”

“We had an… altercation. I don’t think they’ll work with you. And they’re probably not too happy with Regina, either.”

“You did? What happened?”

“Uh… it’s a long story. Look, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“David… put me on with Mary Margaret.”

“Emma…”

“Now. Please.” Regina looked at her in suspicious bafflement, and Emma felt the same. _What is going on?_

“Emma?” Mary Margaret said.

“Yeah. What’s going on? What happened with you guys and Cruella and Ursula?”

“What makes you think something happened?”

“Because David said you had an altercation, and he’s trying to get us to go back to Storybrooke without talking to them. What is going on?”

Another pause, and then, “They can’t be trusted. They did a lot of evil things in the Enchanted Forest. Just come home, Emma, please.”

“Are you serious? Other than Henry, no one has been a bigger advocate for Regina than you. And Gold - you know how screwed we’d be without his help. What is going on? Why won’t you tell me?” 

“Emma, just trust us, please. We’re your parents, and we want what’s best for you.”

“Why won’t you explain this? If they know anything about the Sorcerer, we need to know it!”

“Emma, sometimes you just have to trust your parents. They can’t always explain; you know that. You’ve done the same.”

“I’ve lied to Henry and kept things from him for what I thought was his own good, but was wrong every time. You know that! You’re asking for my trust; trust me. After all the crazy things we’ve been through, you can’t think I’d freak out about it.”

“Emma, please, just come back home, and we’ll talk about it.”

“If it’s that urgent, come down here. Otherwise, I’m calling Tink and August to babysit Zelena while Regina and I track down Cruella and Ursula, and we’ll talk when we get back.”

“No, don’t!”

“Then tell me what the hell is going on! This could be the key to everything for all we know!” Regina actually looked genuinely concerned at this point. Emma was concerned; her parents had never acted like this. 

Emma heard Mary Margaret take a series of deep breaths. “Let us explain it to Rumplestiltskin,” she finally said. “If he agrees it’s unrelated, will you drop it and come back?”

Emma didn’t want to believe that her parents were lying to her out of selfishness. She didn’t really believe that they were (she was not, in fact, a hundred percent convinced that this wasn’t some kind of weird prank). But something felt terribly, terribly wrong with this entire situation. In a conflict between her and her parents, Gold was as close to an impartial party as she knew. He also had a very vested interest in knowing what the Sorcerer and the gods were planning. “OK. I’ll call him and tell him you’re on your way.”

“Right now?” Mary Margaret asked, almost panicked.

“Yes, right now.”

“We can at least wait until morning.” Emma looked at the clock; it wasn’t even ten. _She’s stalling._

“I don’t want to fight with you. I really don’t. But I’m about to make a call: Gold or Tink, you choose.”

She heard Mary Margaret swallow. “I’ll call Rumplestiltskin.”

“I can do it.”

“You’ll just have to call us back to relay what he said. It’s more efficient if we do it.”

Superpower aside, Emma’s bullshit meter was going off like crazy, but she could not believe that her parents were so far gone that they would break their word and ask him to lie to her. “OK. Call him, and have him call me. We’ll get coffee in the meantime.”

“Alright. Emma, just… just know that we love you, and we would do anything to protect you.”

“I know,” she said, and she believed it, but she also knew what could happen when a parent went too far “protecting” their kid. Between the gods, the Sorcerer, and the Author, they needed any potential advantage they could get. Nothing in the past could possibly impact her safety - Henry’s safety - more than that. “Talk to you in a few.”

“Yes. I love you, Emma.”

“Love you too.”

“Goodbye.”

“What was that all about?” Regina asked immediately.

“Apparently, my parents has an ‘altercation’ with Cruella and Ursula that they refuse to explain. They don’t want us talking to them. You don’t know anything about this, do you?”

“No. I never heard anything about that. Mal didn’t mention it either. Although…” Regina clenched her jaw.

“What?”

“Forget it. They can’t be involved; they’d have died first.”

“Involved in what?”

Regina crossed her arms. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Oh, come on! Not you too! Regina, we need this. Henry could be in danger; we don’t know what the gods wants with him - with any of us!”

Regina huffed, but not at Emma. “All right, fine. If we find Mal, she can give me grief for it later. You know how I said the Mal wanted to get back to Earth to retrieve something that was stolen from her?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t an object. It was her daughter.”

“Maleficent has a kid?”

“Yes. Hatched from an egg. Cruella and Ursula were guarding it when they vanished, and they and the baby ended up on Earth. Mal refused to tell me who was responsible. She said…” a look of horror overcame her features, “She said that attempting to seek revenge only cost her chance to find her. No, no, it’s not possible.”

“What isn’t? You don’t believe her?”

“No, no, she was telling the truth. We found her daughter. She’s in Maine, looking for Storybrooke. But her revenge… think about it; why couldn’t Mal go looking for her after the curse broke?”

“She was a dragon,” Emma said, “And then… holy crap. She attacked us. David stabbed her through the chest, and she exploded. Gold said she would regenerate if she were taken back to the Enchanted Forest.”

“And that’s exactly what happened. But there’s no way David and Mary Margaret were involved in this - unless it was some kind of accident.”

“Then why haven’t they said anything? Why tell us not to talk to Cruella and Ursula unless they were afraid of what they might tell us?”

“Maybe they were afraid of what they might do to you,” Regina said wryly, “Cruella and Ursula are not the type to forgive getting banished to another realm just because it was an accident.”

“Then why didn’t they just say that? They know we wouldn’t blame them if it was an accident.”

“No, but they probably knew that you wouldn’t listen to them to stay away from Cruella and Ursula, either.”

Emma rubbed her forehead. “We made a deal. Whatever this secret is, they’re telling Gold, and he gets to decide weather it’s relevant. If he says ‘yes’, they agreed to tell me what it is.”

Regina nodded grimly. “Then we wait and get coffee like you said. There’s no point in speculating in the meantime; you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

Emma looked at her. For the first time, Emma realized that she wasn’t just an ally. In this moment, she felt like a friend.

“OK. Just don’t ask for Starbucks; New York has way better coffee than that.”

Regina smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lyrics from Inside Out by Eve 6


	25. Dark Truths

“Hello,” Rumplestiltskin answered his phone.

“Rumplestiltskin… we need your help,” Mary Margaret said. Her tone was uncharacteristically wary, and he sat up straight.

“What has happened? Did Zelena escape?”

“No! No, she’s still with Regina and Emma in New York. But something has… come up. We need to discuss it with you, in private.”

“I gather it’s urgent?” Belle and Bae watched him, concerned. 

“Yes. If you don’t help us, Emma is going to do something dangerous.”

“I see. I will be there momentarily.”

“Thank you.”

“The Nolans require my assistance,” he told his family. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

“I’ll join you,” Belle said, getting up.

“They requested privacy.”

“Well, that’s not a good sign,” Bae said.

“It’s not.” He sighed. “Don’t wait up; I’ll tell you what I can in the morning.”

“All right.” Belle kissed him. “Stay safe.”

His kissed back. “Good night, Sweetheart. Good night, Bae.”

Bae waved, smiling with a cheerful sadness. “Don’t stay out all night.”

“I’ll endeavor not to.”

He left his den, appearing in the dining area of the loft. David and Mary Margaret were seated at the table, clearly in deep discussion. They looked up. “Gold,” David said.

 

“David. Mary Margaret. Would you care to explain why you summoned me here?”

“We need your help.”

“Yes, that is what you wife said. Something about your daughter. If the Savior is under threat, I would very much like to know.”

“She is,” Mary Margaret said, at the same time as David spoke.

“She’s not.” 

They glared at each other. “David!”

“You made a deal with Emma. We have to tell Rumplestiltskin. All of it. What if she’s right? What of the gods are involved? What if they were from the beginning?”

Mary Margaret looked away. Still looking at his wife, David gestured to Rumplestiltskin. “Have a seat, please. It’s a long story. I’ll tell him, OK?”

“Fine,” Mary Margaret bit out. She turned to Rumplestiltskin. “What we’re about to tell you, you must keep a secret. Emma doesn’t believe us that it’s not relevant to the Sorcerer and the gods and their plan. If you decide that it is, we will tell her. That’s the deal we made.”

“I see. You may be aware that the last time I made a deal of this nature, it did not endear me to my son. I’m not inclined to take that risk again.”

“We’ll owe you a favor,” David said before Mary Margaret’s indignant expression could become an indignant retort. “And it has nothing to do with Baelfire; I promise.”

“It’s about Emma.”

“Yes.”

There was really very little about Savior that was not relevant to the story the gods were writing, and a secret profound enough to elicit this behavior from the upright Snow White and Prince Charming was extremely unlikely to fall into that category. He weighed the risks and the value of not only the favor but the information itself. “Deal,” he said.

David solemnly offered his hand. Resisting the urge to smirk, Rumplestiltskin took it. He pulled out a chair. “Please begin.”

The story they (mostly David) told was obscene. Fearing that their child might one day become dark, they had hired a wizard (from the description, Rumplestiltskin suspected it was the Apprentice) to remove Emma’s potential for darkness and house it in another, innocent vessel. Why they had been daft enough to even dream of doing this to Maleficent’s child Rumplestiltskin could not fathom, but it did explain why she’d been so intent to kill them when they’d gone into the cavern under the library to retrieve his bottled True Love. The spell had worked but had also inexplicably transported the child, Cruella, and Ursula to Earth, and now Regina had had the bright idea to track Maleficent’s old compatriots down and ask what they knew.

When they were finally done, they looked at him expectantly. “You must tell her,” he said bluntly.

“But-”

He raised a hand. “You asked me to judge whether this information has bearing on the gods’ plans. I think you would have to be truly simple to think it does not. Do you understand what you did? You altered your child’s nature to force her into the very role the gods have decreed for her. Of course it is relevant! And if you will allow me to look at your memories of the wizard you spoke to, I would bet money that I would be able to identify him as the Apprentice.”

Understanding dawned in David’s eyes, and he said, “God, I think you’re right. There was something about August’s drawing, but I can’t quite remember his face… can you recover that?

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

The face in the dream catcher was unmistakable. “It was him. This is extremely significant.”

“So… it wasn’t our fault?” Mary Margaret asked hopefully. “The gods engineered it?”

“Of course it was your fault! You used dark magic to fundamentally alter your child’s soul! Did you expect that would work out well for you?”

“We only wanted to protect our child!”

“So did I,” he said coldly. “You know what I became. The gods’ interference does not absolve me. Nor does it absolve you.”

“How do you do it?” Mary Margaret implored bleakly. “How do you live with it?”

Not expecting that question, he sat back in his chair. His curse was strangely silent. “I have to,” he said. “My regrets cannot change the past. I accept the reality of what I was… and what I should never be again.”

Tearfully, Mary Margaret nodded, glancing at her husband. Perhaps he had discovered the secret of their single-minded devotion to doing the “right” thing - even when other’s lives were in the balance. It was rare for the immoral actions of others to disturb him to any significant degree, but the hypocrisy of it burned. His sins had been on full display his entire (very long) life. Thiers had been so well hidden that even he had not known them, let alone their adoring public.

“How… how did you make Baelfire forgive you?” Mary Margaret asked desperately.

“What are you insinuating?” he growled.

“Nothing! But he…” She trailed off, unable to explain herself.

“I did not _make_ him to anything. It was his choice, always.” He’s spent centuries playing mortals like chess pieces - including the mortals sitting before him now - and he would not hesitate to take every bit of judgment and condemnation for that, but he had never, _never_ enchanted his own child.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” David insisted, but from her nervous glance, Rumplestiltskin was quite sure she _had_ meant it like that. “But the things you did… you’ve been where we are now, and Bae forgave you. What did you say to him?”

And perhaps - through his own anger and the delight of his curse - he could understand at least that. He was disgusted by them, but he was even more disgusted by himself. And in any case, a rift in their family could weaken the necessary alliances required to confront the Sorcerer and the gods. He swallowed down an angry retort and tried to phrase a useful answer. The best he could offer was, “The truth. That I love him. That the responsibility was entirely mine and I have never regretted anything more. He elicited certain promises from me that that kept. And beyond that… he has a kinder heart than I can fathom. I had hoped he would forgive me. But I never expected him to.”

“You didn’t?” Mary Margaret asked. “I thought… your visions?”

“I only knew that I would see him again, not what would happen afterwards.”

“You did all that, the curse and everything, not knowing if he would forgive you?”

Her expression was almost awed, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”

“Then so will we,” David said, taking her hands. “We will have hope.”

Mary Margaret bit her lip. “What if she doesn’t forgive us?”

“Then we’ll give her some time and try again.”

“I can’t bear to have her hate us.”

If Rumplestiltskin had been a kinder, more compassionate person, he might have suggested they call Dr. Hopper to mediate. But he wasn’t. He was angry, and tired, and impatient to learn what Cruella and Ursula might know. “Better for her to hate you than for the gods’ trap to spring around her without warning because she did not know. You made a deal. Keep to it.”

David glared at him from the corner of his eye, but Mary Margaret nodded. “You’re right. Emma’s safety has to come first.” She pulled one hand away from her husband and picked up her phone. She dialed, switching it on to speaker, and laid it flat on the table as it rang.

XxXxXxX

They were responsible for Maleficent’s baby. A baby. Her parents had sacrificed a baby, just so Emma wouldn’t turn out to be a villain. They’d done it willingly. And they’d lied about it. “Gold,” she said. She knew that of she addressed her parents, she would start screaming and never stop. “What does this mean?”

“It means that I agree with Regina’s suggestion to speak to Cruella and Ursula, and we should renew our attempts to located Maleficent and, if possible, her child.”

“I have a general location on the daughter,” Regina said, “She’s somewhere near Portland; she’s been looking for Storybrooke.”

“Well, that is certainly curious.”

Emma shared a glance with Regina. “Could she know? About… how she got here?”

“She’s clearly been in contact with someone that knows her true identity and about the curse. I’d say it’s safe to assume that she does,” Gold said.

“Then she could be after revenge,” Regina said grimly.

“She could,” Gold agreed.

“Then you can’t approach her, Emma,” Mary Margaret said. “It could be dangerous.”

“And whose fault is that?” Emma snapped. She didn’t answer.

“The matter of fault aside, it may not be a wise idea for you, personally, to approach her,” Gold said. “She may be more receptive to Regina, for example.”

“Or Cruella and Ursula for all we know,” Regina said. “The three of them may be in touch.”

“Could they have told her about Storybrooke?” Emma asked.

“Unlikely. Cruella has done all right for herself, but Ursula is… not living the high life. If she knew, I’d expect her to be looking for it as well.”

“So we have something to offer her,” Emma pointed out.

“Yes. I was going to suggest we start with her anyway; she is the more reasonable one.”

“Agreed,” Gold said wryly.

“Then we have a plan. I’ll call Tink and August to come babysit Zelena.”

“Emma, I can-” David began.

“No. I can’t talk to you right now. And you’re too involved in this.”

“Emma-” Mary Margaret tried again.

“No. I can’t believe the two of you. It’s not only what you did, but you covered it up this entire time! I cannot deal with that right now. I’m calling Tink, and I’m calling August. You’ll call me if anything changes, right, Gold?”

“Certainly.”

“OK. Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

“Emma-” She hung up.

“Well,” Regina said. “That was a surprise.”

“A surprise? That’s all you can say? An hour ago, you couldn’t believe they were even involved. They sacrificed another baby’s soul because they weren’t sure I would be good enough for them on my own!”

“It’s not a matter of not being good enough. Didn’t you hear Snow? They were afraid of the misery a life of villainy would bring you. Villains don’t get happy endings, Emma.”

“Oh, bullshit! You’ve got everything you want! Gold has everything he wants! Ingrid has everything she wants! Plenty of villains get happy endings! Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I have some calls to make.”

“You can’t just ignore this.”

“I’m not. But we have more urgent things to deal with right now. You said it yourself: Ursula, Cruella, and then we find Maleficent’s daughter.”

“Her name is Starla,” she offered. “Mal was encouraged. It’s a fairy name.”

“Starla. OK, then. We’ll find her and we’ll explain.”

“ _I_ will find her an explain. If she’s anything like Mal, she is not going to react well to seeing you.”

Emma wasn’t ready to concede that. “Let’s see what Cruella and Ursula have to say first, then we’ll decide.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

XxXxXxX

Something was wrong - really, really wrong. When Henry got up that morning, his moms were not back from their trip yet. David and Mary Margaret said they had found some leads in New York about the Sorcerer and that they would be gone a couple of days. But there was something they were not telling him, something big. They were freaked out and sad, and when he’d asked them what was wrong, they’d said they were just disappointed that Emma would not be back right away. 

It was Saturday, so he asked if he could go to the library and hang out. They exchanged worried glances, like they didn’t want him to go, but David said, “Sure. Call us if you need a ride.”

“OK!”

But he didn’t go to the library. He went to the pawnshop. “Hello, Henry,” Bae said, looking up from his book. 

“Hey. Is your Dad around?”

“Yeah. Papa!”

“In a moment, Henry!” he called from behind the curtain. Henry wondered what he was working on, and he tried to peek in when Mr. Gold swept it aside. Mr. Gold saw what he was doing and smirked at him. 

“What can I do for you today?”

“There’s something wrong with my grandparents… my other grandparents. There’s something they’re not telling me.” Mr. Gold went very still. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

“I do. I consulted with them last night. Unfortunately, they required secrecy as a condition of our agreement. However, Emma will be free to answer your questions when she returns in a couple of days.”

“Do you think she will? She’s kept things from me before. And, well…”

“I have too,” he admitted. Sometimes it bothered Henry how calmly Mr. Gold admitted to doing villainous things, but at the same time, at least he did admit it. It would be way worse if he lied about it. “I can’t say, but I expect the truth will come out sooner or later.”

“Does it have to do with the Sorcerer? Or the gods?”

“Quite possibly.” But he said it in a tone that clearly meant, “yes”.

“How about the Author?”

Mr. Gold looked thoughtful. “Now that you mention it… it is a distinct possibility. Boys, why don’t you join Belle at the library? I should make a visit to the Sorcerer’s mansion.”

“We’ll come with you!” Henry said eagerly.

“I don’t think your mothers would approve of that,” he said wryly.

“They don’t have to know.” Mr. Gold raised an eyebrow at him. “What? They’re keeping things from me! Besides, Grandma and Gramps said I could go to the library; they didn’t ask which library.” 

Bae snickered, and Mr. Gold looked at him. “He has a point, Papa,” he said.

“You want to do this?”

“I think secrets haven’t worked out for any of us so far. It doesn’t break your deal if we find something, does it?”

“No. No, it doesn’t.”

“Then let’s go!” Henry said.

“Very well.”

XxXxXxX

“Ursula,” Regina said.

Unlike Ariel, she looked nothing like how Disney had portrayed her. She had a much slimmer figure, a darker complexion, and well, legs (not that Emma should have been surprised by that). She glanced up, quickly covering her surprise with a confident smirk. “Well. The Evil Queen. I wasn’t expecting to see you here. How’s the curse going? And who’s the blonde?”

“I’m Emma.” Knowing immediately that Ursula was not the type to accept a handshake, Emma instead mirrored her confident posture. “We’re here to make you an offer.”

“Oh, really,” she said skeptically.

“Yes,” Regina said. “You have some information we need. And in exchange, we can take you back to Storybrooke.”

“Storybrooke? Is that the kingdom your curse created?”

“It’s not mine anymore, but yes.”

“No yours? Did you get ousted?”

“No. It’s complicated, but you could all me a… consultant to our current mayor.”

“Please tell me it’s not Rumple,” she said flatly.

Regina chuckled. “It’s not. Although if you’re looking for an apartment, you’ll want to pay attention to who owns the lease.”

“Well, doesn’t that sound inviting.” Sarcasm - Emma liked her already. “Why would I even want to go there?” 

“Because we have magic now. If you don’t like it, you can take a portal anywhere. You won’t be stuck here, smelling like fish.”

She set down her bucket, angrily, but she was considering it. “So who are you?” she asked Emma. “I never heard of you in the Enchanted Forest.”

“I’m the Savior,” she said simply. She and Regina had debated this, but villain or not, Ursula was plainspoken and to the point. Emma was sure she would respond better to blunt honesty than manipulation.

“Who?”

“Snow White and Prince Charming’s daughter. I broke the curse.”

The faint humor she’d been sharing with them evaporated. “So you’re the reason I’m here. Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve met enough heroes in my life to know how this ends for people like me.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Regina said. “I got my happy ending. So did Rumple. If we can do it, you can too. The villains don’t have to lose.”

“You got your happy ending?” she scoffed, but Emma could hear hope under it.

“Yes. I have a son now. And a lover, with his own little boy. I’ve found acceptance. All I had to do was stop hurting people that don’t deserve it.”

“And what about the ones that do?” Ursula asked darkly.

“You’re referring to my parents?” Emma asked.

“They told you? I’m surprised. They seemed so convinced they could do no wrong. Or is that why they told you? It doesn’t count ‘cause where villains, right? Did they tell you about Mal’s baby?”

“Gold - Rumplestiltskin - got them to admit it. I’m sorry. What they did was unforgivable. I’ll do anything I can to make up for it, but I won’t let you hurt them.”

Ursula examined her like a creature behind glass, and for the first time Emma saw the resemblance to her Disney counterpart. “You really feel bad about it, don’t you?” she asked.

“It was a bit of a shock.”

“I’ll bet,” she smirked. “OK, how about this: you go to Neverland, fight Peter Pan and Captain Hook, and bring my voice back. Do that, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Emma and Regina exchanged a look. “That might be easier than you think,” Emma said. “We’ve got Pan in our prison. Well, he’s not Pan anymore, but the mortal version of him. And Hook…” 

“He’ll help,” Regina said, her smirk mirroring Ursula’s. 

Emma rolled her eyes but agreed. “Yeah, he will.”

But Ursula didn’t believe them. “I see. Then it should be easy. No voice, no deal.” She picked up her bucket. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

Emma shared a glance with Regina. They had some calls to make.


	26. Lead the Way

“Woah!” Henry said, as they appeared in the entrance hall of the Sorcerer’s mansion. “That is awesome!”

Bae shook his head, feeling nauseous, “Disagree. Can we walk back?”

“Of course-” his father’s phone rang. Still frowning in concern, her answered it. “Emma.” 

Henry leaned over, trying to make out the other side of the conversation. Bae shook his head disapprovingly, and Henry responded with a cheeky grin. Bae shooed him back. “How was your… encounter?” Papa asked Emma. He frowned. “Of course. I did know that she’d lost her voice. I was not aware the Hook was responsible, but it does not surprise me. Retrieving it should be no matter. I’ll let you know when I have it… Good day.”

“What was that about?” Henry asked immediately as Papa hung up.

“Her current lead is willing to cooperate… for a price. I have to pay Hook a visit. I’ll walk you both to the library.”

“But what about the Author?”

“I don’t expect this will take long. We’ll come back after.”

“Then go! We’ll stay here!” Henry offered.

Papa gave Henry a skeptical look. It was so normal, so… like Papa used to be, that Bae had to smile. “Papa, we’ll be fine. Walking all the way there, and back here, and back there again will take too long. We won’t touch anything before you get back.”

Papa peered at him, not quite buying it. “We promise!” Henry agreed, too eager.

Now Papa definitely didn’t buy it. “If you don’t want to make the walk the second time, I’ll just come back alone. This place in treacherous; I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“But there might not be enough time, and you need me!” Henry said. “I’m the Truest Believer, and I have the Book!” He swung his backpack off his shoulder and pulled it out.

“Henry-” he said sternly, trailing off as he stared strangely at the Book.

“Papa?”

“Something is happening. Hook can wait. Henry, open the Book.”

“Yes!” Henry eagerly flipped through it, landing on the door.

The page was glowing. “Woah!”

“The Author is reaching out to you,” Papa said.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Bae asked cautiously.

“We shall see,” Papa said. “Henry, can you hear anything?”

“Hear? No - woah!” They jumped when a beam of light shot from the page towards the room that held the other Books. Henry scrambled after it, and Papa kept pace, gesturing for Bae to keep a couple of footsteps behind him. When they reached the room, the doors opened for them, and the beam of light fell conspicuously on a random desk drawer. Eagerly, Henry ran forward, but Papa stopped him just before he opened it.

“Allow me.”

“But-”

Papa opened the drawer and pulled out a key. “A message indeed,” he said.

“We already checked there,” Bae said. “We checked everywhere.”

“We did. The Author - or perhaps the Sorcerer - wasn’t yet ready for us to find it. Events have started to move.”

“Awesome!” Henry said. “Are we going to let him out now?”

“Not quite yet,” Papa said, pocketing the key. “I believe that we should wait for your mothers to return at the very least. And I have an appointment with a pirate. Keep that Book safe, Henry; it is an important piece in a dangerous puzzle.”

“Yeah,” Bae said. “Let’s get out of here.” The mansion suddenly felt ominous. Was it talking to him? Or Papa? His faint smile was gone. 

Expression grim, Papa nodded. “Let’s go.”

XxXxXxX

The pirate was surprisingly cooperative. As soon as Rumplestiltskin said Emma’s name, he lowered his hook. “Have I offended Emma so much that she had to send you?” Jones asked, less combative than Rumplestiltskin expected.

“She sent me because she is currently in New York with Ursula, who has information we need. Her price for helping us is her voice, which she believes you possess. Do you?”

“Yes,” he said, almost brightly. “It’s in my cabin. Do I have your word that you won’t attack me the moment I turn my back to retrieve it?” he asked with as much humor as bitterness. Taking in more of his appearance, Rumplestiltskin noticed that even for a pirate, the captain was not terribly well groomed. His hair was greasy, his beard not as neat, and his eyes were foggy from what was probably too much rum and not enough sleep. It was rather pathetic, really. Rumplestiltskin’s curse purred.

“You have my word that from the moment I stepped on this ship today, to the moment I step off, you are on no danger from me if you deliver the voice.” He held out his hand, empty and patient.

Hook glanced at it. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, crocodile?”

“We have,” he admitted. 

“Very well, then.” He briskly took the stairs down from the quarterdeck, disappearing into his cabin. If his eyes were not terribly clear, at least his head seemed to be. He returned shortly with an enchanted shell. The magic contained within belonged, unmistakably, to Ursula. 

“How will you get it to Emma?” Jones asked, (not unreasonably) suspicious.

“I was hoping a photograph would suffice for now. The voice will hardly do Ursula much good out there; she will have to return to Storybrooke to make use of it.” He pulled out his phone, fumbling a bit with the camera function.

“This technology confuses you too?” the pirate asked, wryly.

“My dwelling at least has electricity and indoor plumbing,” he drawled. “There.” He dialed Emma.

“Gold? I got the picture; is that it?”

“It is. I’m hoping Ursula will accept it as sufficient proof. She will have to travel across the town line anyway to claim it.”

“If she does, we’ll give her a ride. She’ll be better a better passenger than Zelena.”

“Most assuredly. Please keep me informed of your progress.”

“Will do. Did Hook give you a hard time?”

Rumplestiltskin glanced at the pirate. He was attempting to act nonchalant, but the hope in his face and manner was unmistakable. _Lie. He doesn’t deserve happiness._ “…Not today,” Rumplestiltskin said, walking away.

“OK. Thanks, Gold. Talk to you soon.”

“There was one more thing.”

“What?”

“I located the key.”

“The key - the key to the Author?”

“The very same. I will guard it until your return.”

“We’d better make it a quick return, then. See you, Gold.”

“Good luck, Emma.”

XxXxXxX

Ursula stared at the image on Emma’s phone. Finally, she looked up. “What assurances do I have that The Dark One will hand it over to you?”

“Come back to Storybrooke with us,” Regina said, echoing Rumple’s argument, “Magical abilities can’t travel over the town line; you’ll only know it’s authentic if you’re there.”

Ursula handed the phone back. “You must really want this information. Why?”

“Because people have been meddling in my life since before I was born,” Emma said darkly. “I’m getting damn sick of it.”

“You don’t enjoy being a hero?” Ursula scoffed.

“I don’t enjoy being forced into the role. Any role. I’m guessing you don’t either.”

Ursula looked at Regina. They’d never been close, but the sea witch knew enough about her to know that Emma’s speech could have just as well been hers. And Regina knew enough about Ursula to know the same about her. “In Storybrooke, you don’t have to be the role that was written for you,” Regina said. “We’re trying to keep it that way.”

“I’ve been burned by heroes before,” Ursula said. “Villains too.”

“Mal’s in trouble,” Regina offered. It was their last card to play.

She hesitated. “Trouble how?”

“We don’t know. We ended up back in the Enchanted Forest. She was looking for the Apprentice to barter a way back to Earth to find her daughter. She vanished, and no one has seen or heard from her since.”

“Are you sure she didn’t, you know, _find_ her daughter?”

Regina pulled out the crystal ball. “I can see her daughter in this; I haven’t been able to track Mal since she vanished. Wherever she is, she’s not with her daughter.”

Ursula crossed her arms. “You think the Apprentice did something to her?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s mixed up with some plan involving the gods,” Emma said, “And he needed her out of the way.”

“Which gods?” Ursula asked suspiciously.

“We don’t know,” Regina said. “We were hoping that what you and Cruella know might give us some clues.”

She snorted. “I don’t know how helpful Cruella will be. We went our separate ways right after we arrived in this world. I’ve seen her in the tabloids a couple of times; she likes it here.”

“I’m aware,” Regina said dryly. “But she is out next stop. Are you in or are you content to spend the rest of your life feeding fish for minimum wage?”

Ursula looked at the bucket in her hand. “I’m in. Just give me a minute.” She dropped the bucket, spilling questionable… stuff onto the floor and leg of her uniform. She marched down the hall and pulled open an employees only door. She didn’t go through, only shouted, “Hey, Carol! I quit!” and slammed it shut. Grinning, she turned to them, “That felt good. Let’s go.”

XxXxXxX

With a little internet research, Emma found Cruella’s address no problem. She also found leverage. “Her husband is under investigation for some serious fraud and embezzlement charges,” Emma told Regina. “If I had to guess, she’s about to lose that fancy house. Maybe even get arrested herself.” 

“From everything you and Rumple have been saying, I’d say something ominous about coincidences, but with Cruella, it would be a red flag if she wasn’t hip deep in something illegal,” Regina said.

“You can say that again,” Ursula laughed from the back seat of Regina’s Mercedes. Regina had taken her back to her place to change, pack, and arrange for someone to take her fish while Emma had been locating Cruella. She’d also checked in with Tink and August. They’d made it back to Storybrooke with Zelena, and if Cruella was as easy to negotiate with as Ursula had been, Emma could believe that they might actually get out of this one step closer to learning what the gods were trying to force them into. 

“Well, whatever she’s doing, it seems to have paid off,” Ursula said bitterly as they pulled up in front of Cruella’s Long Island mansion.

“Only until the FBI comes knocking,” Emma said. “If she’s smart, she’ll cut her losses and come with us.”

“And we’re offering something that no amount of money can buy here: her magic,” Regina said. She walked up the steps and rang the bell, Emma and Ursula flanking her.

They waited a good five minutes, and she had to ring the bell twice more before someone came. Not just someone: Cruella De Vil. Unlike Ursula, she looked almost exactly like her Disney counterpart, down to the two-tone hair and questionable fur coat. She yanked the door open, probably to demand to know if they had a warrant, but her outrage immediately morphed into confusion. “What the hell are the two of you doing here?” she drawled, “And who is the blonde?”

“She’s the Savior,” Ursula explained, smirking. “The baby Snow White and Prince Charming screwed us over for.”

Cruella looked her up and down. “You don’t look like a Savior.”

“Thanks,” Emma said sincerely. “We’ve got a proposal for you.”

She frowned. “The last time a hero made an offer like that, I ended up banished to this realm.”

“You seem to be doing all right for yourself,” Regina said. “For now.”

She sneered. “We’ll, it’s been just lovely to catch up, but if you’ll excuse me-”

“We can keep you out of prison and give you your powers back,” Emma said before she could shut the door. “If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll want to hear us out.”

She laughed. “Flattery, how pedestrian.” But she opened the door a little wider.

“It’s not flattery,” Emma said. “We’re looking for information, and we’re willing to pay to get it. But if you’re not interested, we’ll go.”

“What information?”

“Everything about how you got here. Everyone you spoke to. Everything you saw.”

“And why would you want that?”

“Because the Sorcerer and the gods are planning something. We don’t know what it is, and we’re trying to figure it out.”

“I see. And you’re desperate enough to make a deal with the devil just for the chance that I might be able to tell you something? My, my, you’ve gotten yourself into a pickle, haven’t you, Regina dear?”

“So did you,” Regina said. “And chances are, it wasn’t a coincidence. Somebody put you in time out; wouldn’t you like to know who it was and why?”

Cruella made a show if inspecting her nails. “You said something about restoring my magic? Just how were you planning on doing that?”

“My curse worked,” Regina said. “It brought us here, and it created a town for us. What I didn’t know was that that Rumple was counting on it and packed along some magic for the ride. After the curse broke, his potion restored magic to Storybrooke.” That was such an oversimplification that it was misleading, but Cruella was more likely to believe that Gold had gotten one up on Regina than that Regina had gotten one up on Gold (or that the Blue Fairy had played all of them like violins).

“A ride back to Storybrooke,” Emma said, “That’s what we’re offering. You’ll have your magic back and be well out of the reach of the New York prosecutor and the FBI. Not a bad deal just for the truth, I’d say.”

Cruella puckered her lips in an arrogant pout. “The truth isn’t exactly my forte, darling, but getting my powers back does sound appealing. I’m afraid I’m going to have to negotiate one particular point, though.”

“What?”

She pulled out an electronic key fob and clicked it. The center door of the three-car slid open. “I don’t need a ride.”

Emma craned her neck, and she saw sunlight gleam against a great, chrome grill above a very familiar vanity plate. 

_Oh, you have got to be kidding me._

XxXxXxX

Mary Margaret found Henry at the library with not only Nova and Belle, but Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin too. “But it was just, ugh! That’s not how the Mandarin is supposed to be!” Henry huffed.

“I thought it was an interesting twist,” Bae said. “The movies are different from the comics a lot anyway.”

“I liked that Pepper got involved in the final battle,” Belle said.

“But Killian was a weak villain. You have to agree with me on that, Mr. Gold,” Henry said.

“His motivations were petty-,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“Exactly!”

“But you would be surprised how far people will go for the sake of something truly petty,” he said “I will, however, admit to not liking the name.”

Henry and Bae snickered. Belle, noticing Mary Margaret and Graham in the doorway, waved. “Come sit down! We’re having a discussion about movies.”

Mary Margaret smiled at her. If Belle could love Rumplestiltskin after all his crimes - if Bae could forgive him - then surely Emma could do the same? “Mary Margaret, tell them that the fake Mandarin in Iron Man 3 was lame,” Henry said. 

“I haven’t seen Iron Man 3. That came out right after we got back from the Enchanted Forest, didn’t it? Things were a bit busy then.”

“Oh, right. Uh, spoilers. Sorry.”

“That’s all right. I don’t really like Iron Man much, anyway. I like Captain America better.”

“As, yes, the soldier made super by virtue of his… virtue,” Rumplestiltskin said, looking at her shrewdly. Mary Margaret flinched. 

“I like when they all work together,” Belle said. “They have different strengths; that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, Avengers is still the best one,” Henry agreed.

“Have you heard from Emma?” Mary Margaret asked Rumplestiltskin hopefully. Emma had flat-out refused to keep them apprised herself, instead asking Rumplestiltskin to pass along whatever he thought was “relevant”.

“I have,” he said. “Their interviews were successful. Both Cruella and Ursula agreed to cooperate, in return for being admitted to Storybrooke, and, in Ursula’s case, the return of her voice.”

“They’re coming here?”

“They’ll be here by tonight,” he said mildly.

“And you think they’ll honor the deal?”

“They know not to break a deal with me, dearie,” he said.

“And… what about after that?”

“Cruella will probably pay a visit to the Rabbit Hole; Granny’s does not have a sufficient selection of gin. As for Ursula… I’m not entirely sure what she will do once her voice has been returned to her.”

“Will she be dangerous?”

“Anyone can be dangerous. But against the combined powers of your daughter, Regina, and myself? I don’t anticipate that she will be a problem.”

Graham whined and began to wiggle in his stroller. Mary Margaret bent down to unbuckle him to remove his heavy snowsuit. “Good,” she said. “That’s… good. How did Emma… sound?”

She glanced at Henry. She wondered if Emma planned to tell him. Or if she could be persuaded not to. “Relieved that her task was so short. She apparently did not find Ursula objectionable company at all,” Rumplestiltskin said with another knowing look - he was deliberately teasing her.

And Mary Margaret suddenly felt a terrible burn of resentment against him. “Well. Thank you for keeping on top of that. Henry, do you want to get lunch?”

But instead of grabbing his books and agreeing, Henry asked, “What did you guys talk about last night? Why won’t you let Mr. Gold talk about it?”

Mary Margaret glared at Rumplestiltskin, who shrugged innocently. “Don’t look at me, dearie; he knew something was amiss. He’s very perceptive, your grandson.”

“I wonder where he gets it from,” she said flatly, instantly regretting it. It was a cheap shot, and a sensitive subject not just for Gold, but for Bae and Henry as well.

“There are several possibilities, aren’t there?” he responded, danger creeping into his tone. Bae looked away.

“Please, Grandma,” Henry said. “What is going on? Why are you asking Mr. Gold about Mom instead of calling her yourself?”

“I’m not going to discuss this here.”

“No more secrets! How many times have secrets almost ruined everything?”

“Henry, I am not discussing this with you.”

“Why?”

“It’s not my place to tell you,” she said, but it was a lie.

“I’ll ask Mom, then.”

“She may not want to talk about it.”

“I’d suggest that she does,” Rumplestiltskin said. “The Council needs to know. And I doubt Cruella will keep her mouth shut regardless.”

“See? Even Mr. Gold thinks you should tell me,” Henry wheedled.

Mary Margaret pursed her lips. “We’ll talk about it later. As a family.”

“Fine.”

Rumplestiltskin kept his face carefully blank. He knew exactly what he had done, and Mary Margaret was quite sure he’d enjoyed it. Several times since the day they had learned about Nate’s identity, Henry had made it clear that he considered them family. Beyond arranging visits, Emma had danced around the issue, and Mary Margaret had let her, sure that Rumplestiltskin felt the same way. Now she wondered.

“Let’s go, Henry.”


	27. People Like Us

_Thank God,_ Emma thought to herself as they blew past the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. She was enraged at her parents, she was exhausted by the trip, and Cruella De Vil had spent the last five and a half hours tailgating them. Once they got to Main Street, Emma was totally giving her a ticket.

“I’ll call Gold,” Regina said, “Where should he meet us with the voice? Sheriff’s Station?”

“Yeah. And call Granny’s. I’m starving.”

“What do you have to eat around here?” Usual asked, trying to sound bored. Emma hadn’t missed how she’d looked up at the mention of her voice.

“Compared to New York, not a lot, but Granny’s does a mean burger.”

“I don’t suppose you have any decent sushi?”

“Nope. In the summer and fall, there’s a pretty good fish and chips stand down by the docks, but they’re closed for the season.”

“Your mother said that Princess Tiana is hoping to open a soul food and pizza place next to the coffee shop,” Regina said. “She needs a loan, though. For the sake of our taste buds, I might have to have a word with Rumple.”

“Tell her to go through Bae,” Emma said. “No teenage boy will turn down fresh pizza.” 

When they reached the Sheriff’s Station, Gold was waiting patiently outside with his hands folded neatly over his cane. He raised an eyebrow at Cruella’s car, but otherwise stood there, impassive, as they spilled out onto the sidewalk. “Dark One,” Ursula said first. “You’d better have my voice.”

In response, he merely laid his hand flat and summoned a small, pearlescent shell - the same one he’d sent Emma a photo of. Ursula tried to snatch it, and he pulled it away. “Ah, ah, dearie. You have a deal in place with our Sheriff.”

“The deal was voice first, then I answer her questions. You weren’t supposed to be involved.”

“He’s our consultant,” Emma said, “But she’s right about the voice, Gold. Give it to her.”

“Payment up front? You need to work on your negotiation skills, Sheriff.”

“Pretty sure you can back me up if she doesn’t hold up her end,” she said. “I’m not worried.”

With a put-upon sigh, he held out the shell. Ursula grabbed it. She smiled, soft and sincere, and then Emma heard singing. The shell began to glow. Cruella walked up behind them, watching with naked interest as green magic swirled out of the shell towards Ursula’s throat. Then it stopped. “What are you doing?” Ursula accused Gold. 

“Nothing, dearie. It seems your magic is not up to the task.” The magic vanished.

“Of course,” Ursula said. “Of course it couldn’t be that easy!” She glared at Regina, “So much for your fairy tales about second chances.”

“Can you do it?” Emma asked Gold. “A deal’s a deal.”

He sighed. “Indeed it is. I can try.” He held out a hand.

“No,” Ursula said, clutching the shell to her. “You think I’m going to trust you? You’ll probably take it and run.”

“What would I want with your voice? Its only value to me is as currency in the transaction I am currently attempting to complete.”

“Why do you need to hear about our little adventure so badly?” Cruella asked him snidely. “Don’t your little visions tell you everything you need to know? Or are you taking the Savior on a ride? Now that could be fun to watch.”

“The Apprentice has decided to meddle in my affairs,” he said. “He is also responsible for the spell that sent you here. Any clue regarding his plans or present location is valuable to me.”

“You’re going to try to kill the Apprentice?’ she asked, delighted. “Do tell me when. I could get a decent book going.”

“What do you mean the Apprentice sent us here?” Ursula asked.

“I have viewed Prince Charming’s memories of that night. The Apprentice cast the spell. I could not discern why, but the Apprentice does nothing without reason.”

“And you’re going to take him on?” she asked skeptically.

“ _We’re_ going to take him on,” Emma said. “Gold’s not the only one who’s getting sick of being messed with.”

“So it’s true,” Ursula said in disbelief. “The Savior has teamed up with the Dark One and the Evil Queen to… what? Kill the Apprentice? Really? Some hero you turned out to be. I guess we got banished here for nothing.”

“I didn’t say killing; Cruella said that. And I’m getting sick of this hero villain crap; life isn’t that simple. We’re just a bunch of people who want to have control over our own lives, and we’re going to do what it takes to make it happen. We’re not characters; we’re people.”

There was a beat of utter silence, and then Cruella started clapping. “A wonderful speech, darling! I’m all for it! But it’s bloody cold out here, so if you wouldn’t mind…” Emma waved her forward, into the station. Ursula clutched the shell and watched them like someone who desperately wanted to hope but had been screwed over too many times to do it. Emma could relate, she really could.

“At least have some dinner,” Emma said to her. “Our delivery from Granny’s will be here in a minute.” Another suspicious look. “I also have a bottle of Jack Daniels in my office.”

Ursula huffed a laugh. “You should have said that first.”

She went in, followed by Regina. Gold looked at Emma curiously, nodding to her when she waved him ahead. She went in last, immediately grabbing a ticket book and a pen out of David’s desk. “What’s that?” Cruella asked obnoxiously, perched on the end of the desk.

“A ticket for reckless driving.” She filled it out, tore it off the book dramatically, and handed it to the stunned Cruella. “Welcome to Storybrooke.”

Ursula, still holding her voice, laughed.

XxXxXxX

After taking a shot of bad American whiskey and opening a greasy bag of Granny’s take-out, Ursula finally let Rumplestiltskin examine the voice. 

“Can you tell what went wrong?” Emma asked through a mouthful of burger.

“Give me a moment.” It was a beautiful piece. He strongly suspected her father had crafted it, which could well mean… It did. “Yes, I see. Only the person who enchanted the shell can remove the voice.”

“Do you know who it was?” Emma said.

“Yes,” Ursula said putting down her grilled cheese. “My father.”

“Your father?”

“Poseidon,” Rumplestiltskin said.

Emma locked eyes with him. “Poseidon is a god,” she said. “That’s right, Hook said something about meeting Poseidon and his daughter. That was you?”

“Yeah,” Ursula said. “So you can understand that we’re screwed. Thanks for the meal and the liquor, but-”

“Can you summon him?” Emma asked Rumplestiltskin. “Get him to talk to us?”

“I could,” he said carefully. “But it may not be wise.”

“It’s the best lead we’ve got on an actual god.”

“You mentioned the gods had something planned for you,” Ursula said. “Just listen: whatever it is they want, they’ll get it. That’s how they are. You can’t fight it.”

“Gold said you walked away from your dad.”

“Yeah. And he took my voice, and left me here to be a villain, which was exactly what he wanted in the first place. He hates humans. Gods don’t allow each other to kill mortals directly, so he got me to do it.”

“When was the last time you killed someone, dearie?” Rumplestiltskin asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because if you’re not killing people, you’re not doing what he wants,” Emma said. “If he hates mortals so much, I wonder what he thought about you feeding their fish.”

Ursula smirked weakly. “He would consider the very idea of an aquarium theft of his domain. That was the only reason I worked there.” 

“So it sounds like he didn’t get what he wanted,” Emma said.

Ursula shook her head. “Don’t invite him here. You’ll just be asking for trouble.”

“I’m the Savior. Trouble is kind of what I do.”

“Tell me about it,” Regina drawled.

Ursula sighed and shook her head again. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and whatever god has plans for you will keep him from destroying you, but there’s no way you’ll ever convince him to release my voice. It’s pointless. And besides, I don’t want to see him.”

“Yes, you do,” Emma said softly.

“Excuse me?”

“My magic tells me when people are lying. You do want to see him. You want him to apologize for all the crap he put your through.”

“Well,” Ursula said primly, “You can guess the odds of that happening. You know what? Fine. I’ll answer your questions anyway. If the gods have it in for you, you’re screwed either way. I want to be able to say I told you so when that happens.”

“That’s the spirit, darling,” Cruella said, taking a shot of the whiskey.

“OK,” Emma said. “If you want to talk first, I’ll listen, but I made a deal with you. I’m going to get your voice back.”

“Want to bet?”

“Sure. What terms?”

“That was sarcasm,” Usual said with weary condescension. “I know heroes like you may not be used to that kind of thing.” Rumplestiltskin chuckled and Regina laughed outright.

“Oh, you have no idea,” his old student said. “This one had a chip on her shoulder the size of Everest. She’s not like Snow.”

“No?”

“No,” Emma said. “You made a bet. What are the terms?”

“I’m probably going to regret this,” Ursula said. “Whatever. It’s not like I have anything better to do. A hundred bucks says you don’t get my voice back.”

“Deal,” Emma said, extending her hand. Pursing her lips in bemusement, Ursula shook it.

“Do tell me when you plan to perform this summoning, Rumple,” Cruella said. “So I know to keep to the high ground. Of course, that’s never really an option for you, is it?” She chortled, and he rolled his eyes. There had been at time when it would have amused him to match her blow for blow, but that time was long past.

“When were you planning on attempting this?” he asked Emma. 

“Immediately, after Cruella and Ursula tell us what they know. Unless that’s a problem?”

It probably wasn’t wise. She was sleep deprived and emotionally compromised on the subject of parents and children. But summoning Poseidon at all was probably not wise; following her instincts as the Savior was likely the only thing that could get them out of this in one piece. “Very well.” He took a seat. “Ladies, when you’re ready.”

“Hold on,” Emma said, “Just a minute.” She wolfed down the rest of her burger then wiped her greasy fingers on a napkin and dug around for a notepad and pen. For all the prophecies surrounding her, and the machinations that had made her what she was, she remained a mortal in every way. 

He hoped that Poseidon still carried some affection for his daughter. Otherwise, they were doomed.

XxXxXxX

“Mom! Mom!”

“Henry!” Regina said joyfully, getting up to intercept him. At this point, she didn’t think Ursula was any threat to him, but Cruella was just as unabashedly sadistic as she remembered. Regina wouldn’t trust her with a hamster, let alone her son.

“How was your trip?” he asked, hugging her.

“Fine,” she said.

“Oh, this is the boy?” Cruella asked with interest.

“Yeah,” he said. “You must be Cruella De Vil.”

She preened. “Regina told you about me? How delightful.”

“Not really. I’ve seen both versions of the movie, though.” Ursula laughed.

“They didn’t do me justice, but at least my characterization wasn’t based on… a drag queen, was it?” Cruella taunted.

“You think I care?” Ursula responded. “It’s just…” Her eyes fell on the front doors, and she trailed off, her amused grin fading into a thunderous glare. _Please tell me they weren’t stupid enough to come…_

Regina looked over. Sure enough, the door had just swung closed behind David and Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret was cradling the baby, but her eyes were on Emma. The door opened again, and Baelfire, Belle, and the puppet (carrying a large cup of coffee) wandered in.

“I hate it when no one tells me we’re having a party,” Regina groused.

“Oh, I do love a party,” Cruella said. “I know the maid and the virtuous hypocrites, but I don’t recognize the boy or the vision in denim and leather.” She leered at August, who (both wisely and unexpectedly) took a wary step back.

“What are you doing here?” Emma asked her parents. “I thought I was pretty clear on the phone.”

“Emma…” Mary Margaret pleaded.

“Take Graham home,” Emma said coldly. “It’s past nine, for God’s sake.”

“We need to talk.”

“We had a chance to talk,” Emma growled. “For _months._ You’re the ones that kept this a secret. We don’t have time to talk anymore; we have to act!”

“That’s not true,” Mary Margaret said. “You just don’t want to-”

“Damn right I don’t! You sacrificed a _baby_ because I wasn’t good enough for you the way I was-”

“Emma, no!”

“And she didn’t count to you because of who her mother was! And you _lied_ about it!”

Henry, the puppet, and the librarian gaped. Baelfire looked at his father, who nodded slightly. The shock on the teenager’s face melted into anger. Over Mary Margaret’s stuttered protests, he said, “Someone needs to explain what’s going on. Now.”

Cruella watched in naked glee, Ursula in grim satisfaction. “Grandma?” Henry asked helplessly.

“We were scared,” Mary Margaret said. “I’d had a vision-”

“More visions,” the puppet said.

“Yes!” she said, clinging feebly to the possibility of an excuse. “It must have been sent for a reason.”

“What was it?” Bae asked coldly. “And what did you do?”

“Snow saw Emma, as an adult, turn evil,” David said. 

“Evil?” Henry asked.

“I saw her crush my heart,” Mary Margaret said quietly.

David continued. “And as we were walking home, we met a peddler on the road. He told us about a wizard that could help us prevent it. We didn’t know the wizard was the Apprentice-”

“But you know now,” Emma said. “Because Gold went into your memories and recognized him. We could have known that months ago if you’d confessed.”

“We can’t change what’s been done, Emma,” Mary Margaret pleaded.

“No, but you could take some damned ownership of it. I haven’t heard anything out of you but excuses.”

“Emma-”

“What happened next?” Baelfire asked.

“The wizard told us that we could remove Emma’s potential for evil,” David said. 

“If you put it inside another baby,” Emma finished flatly.

“We didn’t know it was a baby!” Mary Margaret cried.

“Bull! You knew it was Maleficent’s child! She’s a person! What possibly reason did you have to think her child wouldn’t be a person too?!”

“It was a dragon, an egg-”

“Scaled people don’t count?” Cruella asked, casually cruel. “Bad news for you, Rumple dear.”

“Scaled people never count,” Ursula said. “Tentacles, either.”

“I think what you mean to say, darling, is that people like _us_ don’t count. Can’t have the princess become a villain. Death would be better. Not the princess’ death of course-”

“It wasn’t going to kill it!”

“Her,” Regina said. “Maleficent’s child is a girl. Her name is Starla. She works as a waitress somewhere near Portland.”

“She lived?” Cruella asked. “Impressive.”

Ursula side-eyed her. “What do you mean, ‘she lived’? You took her to a hospital or something, didn’t you? You said you would.”

Cruella laughed. “Did you really think that? Ursula, darling, how long have you known me? I left her in the woods. Apparently, someone found her there.” Cruella shrugged. Regina looked away. She didn’t have room to talk, but Cruella’s casual admission made her feel sick. Even Ursula looked disgusted.

“See?” Mary Margaret said, “Emma, this is what we didn’t want for you. Because of what we did, you would never-”

“Whoa! Stop it,” August interrupted. “Mary Margaret? Seriously, stop digging. You don’t get to take credit for Emma being a decent person to justify... just… just stop.” Emma looked at him gratefully.

“But-”

“Get out,” Emma said. “Go home.” 

Mary Margaret looked around. The friendliest face in the room was probably Henry’s, but his pleading eyes were on Regina, hoping she could explain. She couldn’t. She understood why they had done what they did, but she had no idea how to explain it to Henry. She felt suddenly resentful. _You were supposed to be the heroes, the ones that never let him down._

“All right,” Mary Margaret said quietly. She bowed her head, turned around, and left. David glanced over his shoulder at Emma as he followed his wife.

“Well!” Cruella declared as the door shut behind him, “Wasn’t that exciting?”

“What does it mean?” Henry asked Gold. “For my Mom. What did they do to her?”

Gold looked at Emma, who nodded. “They took the parts of her soul that would predispose her to do evil and transferred them into Maleficent’s daughter,” he explained.

“But what does that mean?”

“Think of it as… the opposite of a conscience. Most mortals have some measure of a conscience that is in constant conflict with their selfish desires to benefit themselves at the expense of others. Your mother’s desires, on the other hand, predispose her to benefit others; her conscience is essentially unopposed.”

“And Maleficent’s baby?”

“Her selfish desires will be twice as strong.”

“How did they all end up here?” Bae asked. “Why would putting Emma’s potential for evil into another baby send anyone to Earth?”

“It wouldn’t,” Gold said. “The Apprentice ostensibly sent the baby here to ‘protect’ the Enchanted Forest. I suspect he had an entirely different reason, although I do not know what it is.” He looked at Emma. “He did not inform your parents that he intended to do this until the spell was already under way.”

“I doesn’t excuse them,” she said.

“I’m well aware.”

“Blue gave me a similar speech about you,” Bae said to Rumple. “When she gave me the bean.”

“A pattern, then.”

“Are you saying that my Mom’s capacity for evil is as bad as the Curse of the Dark One?” Henry asked.

“Under the correct circumstances, everyone’s is,” Gold said. “The difference is likelihood that it was be realized and power to act upon it.”

“Or he could have just been full of it,” August said. “At this point, I’m not prepared to take the Apprentice’s word on anything.”

“So what now?” Bae asked Emma.

“We summon Poseidon,” Emma said. “He’s the only one that can return Ursula’s voice. And then we find Starla. She deserves to know what happened to her and why.”

“What about the Author?” Henry asked solemnly. Cruella and Ursula exchanged glances.

“We let him out,” Emma said. “He may be able to offer a lead on the Apprentice.” Cruella leaned back in her chair, her expression calculating.

“And if he can’t?” Baelfire asked.

Emma let Rumple answer. “With a blood relative, I may have more success in tracking Maleficent. And if Maleficent vanished for the reasons we think, she may be able to lead us to the Apprentice.”

“Or Poseidon can,” August said. “He’s a god. If they’re involved, he may be able to tell us.”

“Able to tell you, sure,” Ursula said. “But don’t expect him to actually lower himself to converse with mortals. Or the Dark One.”

“We won’t know until we try. I have a bet to win,” Emma reminded her, with forced bravado.

“Have fun, darling,” Cruella said, flapping her fingers dismissively. “We’ll wait here.” She poured another shot and offered it to Ursula.

“No,” Ursula said, waving her off and standing up. “I’ll go with you.”

Cruella pursed her lips. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve bought into their little fairy story about villains, darling. Do you really expect to reconcile with Daddy dearest?”

She glared, but Regina could see the truth on her face. She did not expect it - but she hoped for it. “Maybe I just want to see him turn this place into a flood plain.” 

“Oh, don’t be coy, darling, it doesn’t suit you. Look at them!” she gestured to Regina and Rumple. “A maid, a brat, and a limp; is that what you call a happy ending?”

Ursula just rolled her eyes. “I don’t have all night,” she told Emma.

“Let’s go then.”

“Have it your way,” Cruella said. She picked up the second shot and offered it to August. “Tall, dark, and stubbly and I can entertain ourselves.”

“Ah, I’m not that great at saying no, but this time I think… no,” he said, eyeing her nervously.

“A wise decision,” Rumple said. He took the librarian’s hand and kissed it. “I will meet you both at home.”

“No,” she said. “Bae and I can keep an eye on Cruella while you speak to Poseidon. And we can help with the Author.”

He and Cruella exchanged a glare and a smirk respectively. “Very well,” he conceded. “But be careful.” He summoned the magical bow and arrows Bae had used to slay Cora and handed them over. “Just in case.”

“Rumple, you don’t trust me? I’m hurt,” Cruella said.

“If only,” he snarked.

“I want to come with you,” Henry said to Regina.

Her first instinct was to say no, but between Poseidon and an increasingly drunk Cruella, she really wasn’t sure who was the worse option. Apparently, Emma had the same thought, but decided, “Stay here and give Bae and Belle a hand,” she told Regina. “We’ll be back soon.”

“All this fuss over me? I’m flattered,” Cruella said. “But come, boy, tell me about this Author person. Someone else your grandparents betrayed? I do love a good story.”

Henry gave Regina and then Baelfire a questioning look. The older boy nodded. “I’m not sure I should tell you that,” Henry said. 

Cruella sighed dramatically. “Oh, don’t be a bore, child.”

“Are we going or not?” an impatient Ursula asked Emma.

Emma eyed Cruella. “Go,” Bae said. “We’ve got it.”

“Regina, you ready?”

Something was off with Cruella. While they had numbers, none of the people staying behind to watch her had magic. Cruella looked at her, making a poor attempt at a “Who Me?” expression. “You know what, I think I’ll stay here.”

Cruella huffed. “Have it your way, darling.”

“I will, thank you. Gold, you ready?”

Rumple nodded then said, “Emma.” 

“What?”

He grinned. “Warning.”

“What? Gol-”

He snapped his fingers, and the three of them vanished. Cruella laughed uproariously. Belle and Bae exchanged a fond, exasperated glance, and Regina asked Henry, “Have you had dinner?”


	28. Open the Door

“Gold!” Emma complained as they appeared on the dock.

“I did give you a warning,” he said lightly. But for all the appearance of levity, he was anxious to get this done quickly.

Emma just glared at him. “It’s nice to see you haven’t changed,” Ursula said dryly, but, like him, banter was the last thing on her mind. She clearly did have some hope for her father. Rumplestiltskin hoped it was warranted.

“So how do we do this?” Emma asked, looking around into the bay. 

“I can,” he answered. “Or you can,” he said to Ursula. 

She huffed and crossed her arms defiantly. “This wasn’t my idea.”

“Very well.” He summoned the shell from his shop.

“Isn’t that what you used to summon Ariel?” Emma asked.

“It is. It will catch Poseidon’s attention as well. If he allows it to.”

Ursula pretended not to watch as he brought the shell to his lips and activated the spell. His curse was milling around in his mind like a mischief of mice, not speaking, but agitated and ever present. 

Nothing happened. The water rippled merrily, reflecting the lights of the town and the waxing moon. Beyond the faint lap of the water and the hum of the town behind them, they heard nothing.

“Well,” Ursula said dryly, “It could have been worse.”

“Try again, Gold,” Emma said.

Internally debating the merits of annoying a god, he did. Once more, nothing happened. “Isn’t there something else you can try?” Emma asked. “You’re the Dark One; can the gods really ignore you if you want to talk to them?”

“There are methods that would exert more… pressure, but I cannot command him. And it is exceptionally unwise to antagonize a god.”

Emma crossed her arms defiantly. “There has to be a way.”

“I’m not sure you really understand this ‘god’ thing,” Ursula drawled. “I knew this was a waste of time.” She started walking away.

“Where are you going?” Emma asked.

“To find a bar,” she shouted back. 

“Gold, there has to be a way,” Emma insisted. “This is the best lead we’ve had since…”

“Since the Sorcerer chose to present us with the Author’s key,” Rumplestiltskin said. “We cannot force Poseidon’s cooperation. He could be behind this for all we know.”

“Why him? What motive would he have for… any of this?”

“I cannot say-”

“YOU!” They heard Ursula shout, followed by a loud thud. Rumplestiltskin recognized the slight squish and scrape of her tentacles against paved streets. Emma bolted down the dock. Rumplestiltskin took the simpler route.

He appeared at the corner of Nut Avenue, which let up to the Rabbit Hole. Ursula was there, Jones in her coils. The Pirate choked and kicking ineffectually, and Rumplestiltskin’s curse cackled with glee. “Not that I object, dearie,” he told her, “But the Sheriff is right behind me, and she will.”

Panting in rage, Ursula dropped Jones just as Emma arrived. “Hey!” she shouted. “I thought we had a deal!” She seemed genuinely betrayed. Somehow, despite all she’d seen, it appeared that she still put faith in her allies no matter their past misdeeds and was disappointed when that faith was broken. He wondered how much of that was due to her parents’ alteration of her soul.

“The deal was for my voice back. You didn’t deliver,” Ursula said.

“I did!” Jones objected, glaring accusingly at Rumplestiltskin. “I gave it to the crocodile!”

“And he can’t get it out!” she spat.

Jones clambered to his feet, dusting off his leather coat. “You’re certain?”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “But since you’re here, and you had the thing for however long - any ideas? Gold says only the person who made the shell can get her voice out if it again.”

“That would be Poseidon,” he said.

“We know. Gold tried to summon him. He ignored it.”

“And don’t tell me you think he would do it even if he were here,” Ursula said.

“I… would think not,” the pirate admitted.

Ursula made an impatient gesture, indicating to Emma that even the pirate agreed with her assessment. But Rumplestiltskin probably should have guessed that Emma would never back down in the face of three villains predicting failure. “There’s a way. Just give me some time,” she said.

The pirate looked at her longingly. “Let me help,” he said.

“Hook-”

“This is not a plea for your affection, Swan. I am the one that took Ursula’s voice. Let me try to make amends. You _asked_ for my help.”

“Whatever,” Ursula said. “I know how this ends. Villains don’t get happy endings.”

“That’s not true,” Emma insisted. “That’s just an excuse.”

Ursula cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Regina was singing the same tune when she and Robin… ran into some complications. You know who else keeps running into complications? Me. My parents, all these people you call heroes. Maybe you’ll get a happy ending, maybe you won’t, but your chances go way up if you have friends. Hang around. Try to get along with people. Anyone can find a place here, no matter who they are. And if you give me a chance, I will find a way to get your voice back. I know you have no reason to trust me; and believe me, I know what it is to be burned over and over, but if you give up, that’s a guarantee that you will never get what you want.”

There was a tense silence as Ursula stared her down. Emma didn’t flinch. She seemed very much the Savior just then, and Rumplestiltskin marveled at the irony that she had progressed from saving people from villains to saving the villains themselves. The rules _had_ changed, and Rumplestiltskin didn’t know if it was this realm, the gods, or Emma herself that had done it.

“You’ve got a week,” Ursula finally said. “After that, deal’s off. And keep him,” she pointed at Hook, “Out of my way.”

Emma glanced, exasperated, at the besotted pirate. “Agreed.” 

Ursula continued on to the Rabbit Hole. After some cajoling, Hook returned to his ship, but only after eliciting a promise from Emma that the two of them would meet in the upcoming days to discuss what he knew of Poseidon.

In the meantime, Emma and Rumplestiltskin mutually agreed to move on to the Author. Rumplestiltskin still had his doubts, but the Sorcerer and the gods clearly wanted this, and if they kept putting it off, he expected they would find a way to force the issue.

He returned them both to the Sheriff’s Station, fortunately finding it still in tact. “Rumple!” Belle greeted. “That was quick. How did it go? Where is Ursula?”

“Poseidon ignored our summons.”

“I told you so,” Cruella crowed. Someone (probably Regina) had confiscated the whiskey, but that didn’t seem to bother Cruella. “Has the mighty power of the Dark One shrunk to match his height?”

Before Rumplestiltskin could respond, the puppet asked, “What is your fixation with his height? Do you have a fetish or something?”

Bae and Henry snickered as Cruella sputtered. “Of course not!”

“Well, I think it’s just perfect,” Belle said, kissing him to make her point. Rumplestiltskin could not help laughing under her lips at the expression on Cruella’s face.

“Please, darling, some of us have weak stomachs,” Cruella declared dramatically, and even Regina rolled her eyes.

“So where is Ursula?” she asked.

“The Rabbit Hole,” Emma said. “She gave me a week to find a way to return her voice. After that, Hook may need to take up witness protection.”

“What a tragedy,” Regina said. “So what now?”

“We free the Author. Maybe he can tell us what we need to know.”

Cruella perked up at the mention of the Author, as she had done before. _She knows. Kill her before she can use him._ “Emma, perhaps this is best done without an audience,” he said, glancing at Cruella.

“Me? What have I done?” she objected.

“Do you really want an answer to that, dearie?” He flapped his hand at her. “Your compatriot is at the local dive bar; feel free to join her.”

“Oh, no,” Emma said, “You don’t need more booze.”

“You don’t know what I can handle, darling. But I don’t do ‘dive’ bars,” Cruella said, wrinkling her nose. “What kind of hotels do you have in this place? I was hoping for a Four Seasons, but this whole place is a bit more… quaint than I would have expected of you, Regina.”

“Granny’s Inn,” Regina said, ignoring the implied insult. “That’s it, so I suggest you not go out of your way to offend her.”

Cruella sighed. “I’m starting to think I never really knew you, Regina. I never expected the Evil Queen’s kingdom to look like this.”

“You’re right,” Regina said, “You didn’t know me.”

They were all watching Cruella expectantly now, impatient for her to leave. She was stalling for a reason, and Rumplestiltskin knew that whatever she was planning did not bode well. She sighed again, eventually pushing herself to her feet and sweeping her coat on dramatically. “I do hope you all know what you’re doing. I’d hate to have my powers back just to get caught in the crossfire between you and an angry god.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma said. “You can always leave.”

“How charming,” Cruella said tauntingly. “Just like daddy dearest.” She grinned at Emma’s frown and sauntered out, pausing to tell the puppet, “You knew where to find me, darling.”

He took a step backward and smiled to cover his unease, “Still no.”

“Such a shame,” she clucked, and then she was gone.

“She’s… dramatic.” Bae said.

Rumplestiltskin laughed. “She is. But beware of animals around her.”

“Why?”

“She can control them; that is the nature of her powers.”

“Really?” Henry asked.

“Yes. Now, to free the Author.” 

“Finally!” Henry declared.

“Do we need to rest of the Council for this?” Bae asked.

“I don’t think so,” Regina said. “They already agreed to release him.”

“And we need what he knows,” Emma said. “We don’t have the time to waste.”

Henry had already set down his backpack and pulled out the Book. He opened it to the door and laid it on his grandfather’s desk. “You have the key, right, Mr. Gold?”

“I do.” He handed it to Henry.

Henry grinned at Regina, who smiled back. Next to him, Emma prepared herself, for once reaching for her magic instead of her gun. She nodded to Henry, who put the key to the page and turned it. Magic flared - the Sorcerer’s magic - and a nondescript man in Enchanted Forest clothing tumbled out on to the floor.

A man Rumplestiltskin had seen before: in David’s memories.

“Oh! Uh, thanks!” the Author said to Henry. “It was cramped in there. I couldn’t even reach this.” He pulled a familiar bottle from his waistband and took a swig from it.

“What a lovely bottle,” Rumplestiltskin remarked. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh,” the Author replied, grinning at him knowingly. “A nice couple I met on the road gave to me. But you knew that didn’t you?”

“What is he talking about, Gold?” Emma asked.

“He is the one that told your parents about the wizard that could protect your soul. That’s why you were locked away, isn’t it? You forced the Apprentice’s hand.”

“He-?” Emma gaped.

The Author shrugged and smiled. “Me.”

“So you forced my parents-”

“Oh, no, no, no. _They_ had a choice. That was the point; I wanted to see if they would do it. It makes such a better story than the perfect, self-sacrificing heroes. Who wants to read about that, anyway?”

“I do,” Henry said, hurt. “How could you do that?”

“Do you mean literally how? Because I’m pretty sure the Dark One can answer that question. If you’re asking why, I told you already; it makes a better story. Even the Evil Queen,” he glanced at Regina with what looked suspiciously like adoration, “Never sacrificed a baby. Heck, the Dark One never sacrificed a baby. This version, anyway.” He gestured at Rumplestiltskin dismissively. “For the _heroes_ to do it - now that’s a story.”

As he spoke, the Author tucked the bottle away and strutted about, a showman playing to a captive audience. He carefully maneuvered himself so that he had an unobstructed route to the door, then he suddenly kicked a rolling chair at Emma and bolted. Or tried to anyway.

Click.

Rumplestiltskin locked the front doors just before he reached them, sealing them with magic. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, dearie,” he growled. His curse laughed. It was enjoying this far too much, which gave Rumplestiltskin pause. The Sorcerer had imprisoned the Author for good reason, and then conspired to free him specifically now. Why?

The Author turned around, and his posture reminded Rumplestiltskin of Malcolm. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?” he asked with a shrug.

“Sure we can,” Emma said flatly. “Why’d you try to run?”

“Maybe I’m not comfortable being trapped in a room with him,” The Author said, tilting his head towards Rumplestiltskin. 

“How about me?” Regina asked darkly, crossing her arms.

The Author grinned, almost smitten. “You… you are another matter entirely.” 

They couldn’t see it from where they were standing, but both Emma and Regina raised their eyebrows in almost exactly the same way. The Author didn’t seem to notice. “I think you just proved why Gold has to be here,” Emma said. “Tell us about your story. What else did you change?”

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging innocently. “I don’t suppose you could open a window or anything? Let a little breeze in? I’m a little claustrophobic, you see, after, being trapped in a book for thirty years.”

“It’s January in Maine,” the puppet said, “You don’t want us to open a window.” The Author sighed.

“How did you know it was thirty years?” Regina asked.

“I’m the Author. It’s my job to know.”

Her face as stony as a castle barricade, Emma said, “Why did you banish Starla, Cruella, and Ursula to this world? That was you, right? You were controlling the Apprentice.”

“It was. I knew your parents; if they did go through with it, they would immediately try to make amends. That wasn’t the story I wanted, and Maleficent would have just roasted them anyway, which would have ruined the entire story arc.”

“So it all comes back to your story,” she said.

“Well, I am the Author; that is what I do.” Emma seethed, and Rumplestiltskin glanced as the overhead lights dimmed slightly for just a moment. For tunately, Emma took a series of deep breaths, reining in her magic as he had taught her to do. The lights steadied; she was improving.

“I wonder,” Rumplestiltskin said, “What purpose did this narrative serve?”

“Who said there was a purpose?” the Author asked.

“All good stories have a purpose. And you do consider yourself a storyteller, do you not?”

“Of course.”

“Then answer his question,” Emma said. “What was the point? What gods are you working for?”

“Gods? Who said anything about gods?”

Emma stared at him, her expression thunderous. “You really don’t know,” she said flatly.

“Nope! They don’t get involved much, you see.”

“Not directly,” Rumplestiltskin said, trying to reconcile these new developments with what they had already known. 

“You think they’re playing him?” Emma asked.

“Hey!” The Author objected. “I’m right here. And no one plays me!”

“They just trap you in books,” the puppet said wryly.

“That was the Apprentice.”

“Who works for the Sorcerer, whose power comes from the gods,” the puppet said.

“Huh,” the Author said. “That _would_ be an interesting twist. The Sorcerer is so moralistic, but the gods - those guys are interesting. Have you read Greek mythology? Or Norse? _Those_ guys know how to party. There’s this one story about Loki and a horse-”

“Getting back to the subject,” Regina interrupted. “Where’s Mal?”

“How should I know?”

“Isn’t it your job?” she asked mockingly. “ _Something_ happened to Mal, and knowing her, it was a great story. Tell us about it.”

The Author looked up at the ceiling in false contemplation. “No,” he said.

“Why not?” Regina growled.

“It’s not time for that yet. She’ll show up; her story isn’t finished. Although you,” the Author said, pointing at Rumplestiltskin, “Are not doing what you’re supposed to.”

“Am I not?” he asked dryly, even as his heart began to pound. So he had defied the gods after all. He only hoped his family would survive the fallout.

“No. You know, you are the biggest pain in the ass of anyone I’ve ever written about?”

“Good,” the puppet said. Emma snorted.

Rumplestiltskin smirked slightly. “Why, precisely?” he asked.

“You’re involved in everything! I like connectivity as much as the next guy, but you’re just ridiculous! And your backstory is distracting.”

“Distracting?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes! You’re the _Dark One,_ the looming, inhuman threat. People aren’t supposed for root for you. The whole thing with your kid takes away from that. Sometimes a story just needs a beast, you know?”

“Let me guess,” the puppet said, “You hated the end of Return of the Jedi.”

“Return of the what?”

“What isn’t he doing?” Emma said, seriously. “What storyline are you trying to write?”

He smirked at her, unabashed. “I can’t _tell_ you; that would give away the ending. Although if he keeps it up, the ending is ruined anyway.” He crossed his arms, sulking.

“Keep it up,” the puppet said to Rumplestiltskin. “I don’t want to see his ending.”

“Me either,” Emma said.

“How do you know that?” the Author asked, “You haven’t read it yet.”

“You wanted him to use the Hat, didn’t you? To succumb to darkness again,” Belle asked. “That is not going to happen.”

He grinned obnoxiously at her. “Are you sure?” Rumplestiltskin growled. “Have you considered keeping him on a leash?” The Author asked mockingly. 

“Have you considered shutting up before he does something really unpleasant to you?” Regina asked snidely. “Or I do?” Even that threat only encouraged him, and he smiled at her again.

While he was distracted, Emma walked over and grabbed him by the arm. He blinked at her, confused. “Alright. I think we’ve gotten everything we’re going to get out of you,” she said, pulling him towards the cells.

“What are you doing? I haven’t committed any crime!”

Emma scoffed. “How about kidnapping?”

“ _I_ didn’t-”

“You confessed,” she said flatly. The Author looked around the room and found no allies. His gaze lingered on Regina, but her royal glare was as cold as the rest of theirs. He sighed melodramatically and let Emma lock him into one of the cells. Everything about his acquiescence screamed that he was not defeated, only biding his time; the resemblance to Malcolm was uncanny.  
 _  
Why would the Sorcerer select this man as the Author? He’s clearly untrustworthy. It must further his plans somehow.  
_  
“One last question,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“Yes?” the Author asked, affecting boredom.

“Do you have a name?”

“Of course I do.” He smirked.

“And it is…?” Regina prodded.

“Isaac,” he told her, with stars once again in his eyes. And of everything they had learned, perhaps that was the most bizarre. The Author was clearly taken by Regina, but what did that mean for his story? Rumplestiltskin could not follow the logic - if there was logic.

Emma looked at Rumplestiltskin and then Regina. The puppet rubbed his chin thoughtfully. When Emma met his eyes, he nodded and looked towards the stairs that led to the conference rooms. Belle noticed also, taking Rumplestiltskin’s hand and pulling him along.

He glanced back at the Author, who smiled blithely, with his hands hanging thought he bars. He looked utterly unconcerned. 

_What does it mean?_ He hoped the puppet knew, because Rumplestiltskin had no idea. His curse chuckled.


	29. Character Arcs

“Do you know what it is you are not doing?” Emma asked Gold as she shut the conference room door. “So you can, you know, keep not doing it?”

“I believe Belle is right,” Gold said, “That he was referring to the Hat.”

“Too many coincidences?” she echoed. There _were_ too many coincidences. The question is what they all _meant._

“That, and he seemed quite clearly to need me in the villain role for his tale. It would be a great act of villainy, for sure.”

“Yes,” Belle said, taking Gold’s hand. “But something confuses me about the Author.”

“What?” Emma asked.

“His explanation for what he did to your parents was that he wanted more complex heroes, but he wants Rumple to be less complex. From at storytelling perspective, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Uh, I think I might have some insight into that,” August said, raising his hand like a kid in class. He’d been eager to get them downstairs; Emma hoped like hell that meant he knew what the Author was planning.

“Yeah?” Emma prodded.

“I think the Author is a Regina fanboy.”

“He’s what?” Regina asked.

“He wants to ba-” August’s eyes slid to Henry. “Date you.” Henry rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“I did notice,” Regina sighed, “But what does that have to do with Rumple?” Gold nodded along, as if he had been wondering that as well. So had Emma. 

“Gold screwed you over. Big time. Which means the Author probably hates him, and hates even more that your stories are so similar.”

“How are they similar?” Regina asked incredulously.

“How are they not? You were both genuinely good people trying to be good, driven to a breaking point and corrupted by dark magic. You’re both even on redemption arcs right now. That’s what the Author meant when he called Gold’s backstory distracting; it draws focus away from _your_ story. It might even make the reader sympathize with the person who hurt you.”

“If the Author likes me so much, why didn’t he use his powers to make things better for me instead of messing with David and Snow?”

“Because he doesn’t see you as a person, he sees you as a character. A tragic character. You have to suffer for the story to work. It’s true that a writer’s favorite character is often the one they make suffer the most,” he said.

“Do you do that?” Regina asked archly.

August smiled. “There’s not a lot of suffering in my books. I’m more about… happy endings.” Belle and Bae snickered. So did Henry, which made Emma wonder how much he knew about August’s books.

“It fits,” Emma said. “Except for one lie, everything the Author said was the truth, but it wasn’t the whole truth. I don’t think he knows as much about what’s going on as he’s implying he does, but he really does resent Gold, and he was very happy to be trapped in a room with you, Regina.”

“What did he lie about?” Bae asked.

“That he didn’t change anything else.”

“That is significant,” Gold said solemnly. “And Cruella was so very interested in meeting him...”

“I noticed that too. But one thing at a time. How does the whole thing with Starla and my parents feed into his story, August? Regina wasn’t even involved in any of that.”

“No, but your mother is - was - her nemesis. He even made the comparison: Regina never sacrificed a baby. If he’s writing Regina to be the eventual hero of the story, he’s clearly writing Gold and your parents to be the villains.”

“Marvelous,” Regina said flatly. “I don’t suppose your superpower gave you any insights into where he’s stashed Mal?” she asked Emma. 

“No. I’m not sure he knows where she is, but he really does seem to think she’ll be coming back. Any ideas, Gold?”

“The Author himself could not have done anything to her; he was imprisoned well before she went missing. But it is significant that he believes that she will appear again. It confirms that her disappearance was part of the larger plan,” Gold said.

“So we’re back to the Sorcerer,” Regina said impatiently. “Or the Apprentice. We already suspected that!”

“We need to find Starla,” Emma said. “He was being evasive about that. The reasons he gave for banishing her were true, but there was more to it. You said she was in Maine.”

“Yeah. She gets local news out of Portland, so she must be close. She works at a diner called the Coffee Mug. She’s tall, brunette, brown eyes. I only know her first name from her nametag.” 

“But it’s an uncommon name, and Portland is not New York. I can find her. Any more clues?”

“I don’t know if it will be any help at all, but she has a star-shaped birthmark in her wrist. Mal said it was the mark of her fairy blood; Rumple can you do anything with that?”

“A star shaped birthmark?” Emma demanded. 

“Does that mean something to you?” Regina asked.

“It might. Can you use your crystal ball right now? Show her to us?”

“All right,” Regina said carefully. The ball appeared in her hand, and she waved her other hand over it, conjuring an image inside. An image of a woman Emma’s age who looked far too familiar.

“Lily…” Emma said.

“What?” Regina asked.

“Her name isn’t Starla, it’s Lily.”

“Wait, you know her?” 

“Remember that friend I told you about?” Emma asked August. “The one who stalked me?”

“You said her name was Lily…” he said. “It’s the same girl?”

Emma nodded. “Oh, that can’t be a coincidence,” Regina said.

“It’s not,” Gold agreed. “She has a part of your soul. It drew her to you.”

“That’s exactly what she told me. Not the soul part, of course, but that she was drawn to me. She’s the next piece, no question.” And Emma dreaded it. Was no part of her life untouched by this madness? Apparently not.

“So we go after her tomorrow,” Regina said.

Emma rubbed her forehead. There was something here she wasn’t seeing. “Actually, I think you should stay here. Work on the Author. If any of us have a chance to get more out of him, it’s you.”

“You can’t go after her alone,” Regina objected.

“I’ll go with you,” August said. Regina gave him a skeptical look, and he shrugged. “In a battle I’m useless, but we’re just going to talk to her. This is a job for exposition guy.”

Emma chuckled, but Gold wasn’t won over. “Are we certain of that?” he asked. “If Lily is searching for Storybrooke, we should ask ourselves why, and how she knows of it. Our track record with outsiders has not exactly been stellar.”

“It’s not her fault,” Emma said, even as she internally agreed he had a point. She’d had some of the same thoughts. 

“I didn’t say it was. But if she is a threat, she is a threat regardless of the reasons. And she has some very good reasons.”

Emma had been considering asking Gold to be her back-up, but August might be the better choice after all. August had a way of winning people over. Gold was… Gold. Acerbic at his best, and at his worst, well… 

“We need her,” she said, “And she deserves to know what we know. I can handle her.”

“You’re certain?” Gold asked, almost kindly.

“Yeah. If she does agree to come with us, I’ll call you.”

“Very well.” 

“Is there anything else we can do?” Belle asked.

“Uh… the more eyes on the Author, the better. And there’s still Ursula’s voice. Gold, are you sure there’s no way to get it out without Poseidon?”

“I am reasonably certain, but there may be something I am missing. I will think on it.”

“Do.”

Belle squeezed his hand and smiled at him lovingly, “I’ll help.”

“And the Author?” Baelfire asked. “Someone should be there to back up Regina.”

“I will,” Gold said, “I still have some questions for him.” 

Regina looked at him suspiciously, but nodded. “Fine. But I’m taking the lead.”

He bowed slightly, smirking. “I am all for targeting the Author’s weaknesses, and as far as we can tell, that weakness is you.”

“Lucky me,” Regina said.

“What can I do?” Henry asked. “And please, don’t say ‘stay safe’ or something dumb like that. The Sorcerer showed me the key; I’m involved in this.”

“Wait, what?” Emma asked. “Gold said he found the key.”

“Uh…”

Henry looked at Gold guiltily. Bae rubbed the bridge of his nose. Gold looked at Regina and Emma and unapologetically explained, “Henry and I came to the simultaneous conclusion that the Sorcerer’s mansion required another search. Bae accompanied us there, and as soon as Henry opened the Book to the Author’s page, a magical light led him to the key - which was most assuredly not in that location when we looked the first time.”

“And you were planning on sharing this when?” Emma asked hotly.

“You used Henry as bait?” Regina accused.

“I did no such thing. The Sorcerer does have a plan for him; better he explore it in my company than alone.”

“I don’t want Henry anywhere near your company,” Regina hissed.

Emma was able to look at it a little more objectively (barely). If Gold had thought that Henry had been in any danger at all, he never would have brought Bae with them. But that didn’t mean he was right. “You don’t get to make that decision. Henry, you should have waited until we got back.” 

“And would you have taken me? No one tells me anything! David and Mary Margaret were acting weird, and you and Mom were going to be gone for days. You can’t shove me aside like I’m not a part of this!”

“That’s not what we’ve been doing.”

“Yes it is!

“Henry, you’re twelve.”

“Almost thirteen! And I’ve been in the middle of this since I was ten; you can’t keep saying I’m too young like that will keep me out of it!”

Emma looked helplessly at Gold, but the suggestion he offered was not what she was hoping for. “If you will permit it, I believe it would be beneficial for Henry to observe the interrogation. From a safe distance, of course.”

“You cannot be serious,” Emma said.

“I’m quite serious. There is a connection between him and the Author; perhaps he is the key to what the Author is hiding.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Bae offered. He glanced at his father. “I want to be there for the interrogation too.”

“There may be magic involved,” Gold warned him.

“I know,” Bae said. “But like Emma said - more eyes.”

“Very well. You’re as entitled to this information as anyone.”

“See?” Henry said. “Bae will be with me; it will be fine.”

“No,” Regina said firmly, and Emma nodded.

“If you want to help, help Belle and Gold with the voice,” she said. “Maybe there’s something in the library about it; you can help them look.”

Henry looked at her, fuming and betrayed. She’d offered him a bullshit task to keep him busy, and they all knew it. Bae gave her a weary look that pissed her off, and the pitying undertone in Gold’s matching expression pissed her off even more. 

“Maybe…” August offered carefully, “We should call it a night? Sleep on it?”

And Emma could have agreed with that except for what was waiting for her at home. She could not face her parents right now. Regina, surprisingly, came to the rescue. “If you don’t want to go back to the loft… you can both stay with me.”

“Whatever,” Henry said sullenly, but Emma was grateful. Baffled - and struck by the irony that after two years of acrimony Regina was now her most reliable ally - but grateful nonetheless.

“Thank you,” she said. “August, I’ll want to leave early.”

“Sure.”

“Likewise, Regina,” Gold said. Lips pursed, she nodded. “In that case, good night.”

“‘Night,” Emma muttered. She missed New York. She missed it badly.

XxXxXxX

As they walked home, Belle knew Rumple’s thoughts were on the Author, but her own were on Poseidon and Ursula. She still had not forgiven the sea witch for kidnapping and nearly killing her, but seeing her now, in these circumstances, and with Cruella chattering cruelly in her ear, she recognized something in her - something she’d only come to understand through her relationship with Rumple and Bae.

“How much do you know about how Ursula lost her voice?” she asked Rumple.

“Only as much as you do,” he said. “Short of Ursula, there is only one person that could tell us more.”

“Killian,” Bae said.

Rumple nodded. “It’s strange. He was… unexpectedly cooperative when he gave me the voice. If I thought he had any sense of pity, I would say he pitied her.” His eyes were distant, and Belle wondered what had happened between them that day. She could not help but notice that neither rage nor triumph crept into Rumple’s voice as he discussed Hook, and she contemplated it.

XxXxXxX

Emma had not changed her mind by morning, and a complaining Henry was handed off to Belle as they met once more at the Sheriff’s Station. August arrived slightly late and half asleep, yawning widely into his coffee, but he at least had a smile for her. He passed Belle and Henry as they headed off towards the library, Belle promising Henry that she wanted to know his thoughts on Poseidon.  
 _  
When did this all get so complicated?_

Emma was used to a crisis every week, but they didn’t usually pile up like this. “You look like you need coffee,” August said. “I should have brought some for you.”

“I can get some at Granny’s on our way out of town.”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“I looked up the diner on Google Maps; that’s our first stop.”

“OK. I’m ready when you are.”

Bae wished them luck, and Gold and Regina shared what could only be described as a villainous glance. “Leave the Author in one piece, OK, guys? We might need him later,” Emma said.

“Of course,” Gold said, smirking wickedly. Regina and Bae rolled their eyes.

“Keep me updated.”

“We will,” Bae said.

As per August’s suggestion, Emma grabbed a coffee, and then they were off. They drove in silence past the sign, the bug rumbling on the twisty roads. Once he had finished his coffee, August set the cup on the floor and asked, “You want to talk?” 

“About what?” she asked flippantly.

“Any of this. All of this. Or I could tell you about the drive back with Zelena. Six hours with a handcuffed woman in the back of my father’s van. I’m not afraid to admit that I really didn’t think that one through.”

Emma laughed. “I hope you didn’t get pulled over.”

“I drove like Papa all the way back. Hence the six hours instead of five.”

She laughed again. “Well I do appreciate it. And I did not forget that I owe you and Tink a drink.”

“Damn right.”

He let her sit in silence for a while after that. Eventually, she asked one of the questions that had been gnawing at her. “How did you do it, August?”

“Do what?”

“How did you forgive your father for sending you through the wardrobe?”

She could feel his eyes on her as she kept looking straight ahead. “I’ve never had a problem with what he did,” he admitted carefully. “He was trying to save me; he really was afraid I would die. Blue was the one who lied.”

“So I should blame the Author, then?” she asked, possibly only because she wanted him to say, “Yes.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s not even the same situation; I always knew my father’s part in it. Plus I think he really thought we would all be OK. There wasn’t any… sacrificing. Not with souls, anyway.”

All her careful attempts at avoidance hadn’t done a thing to stop her anger. Now that she’d brought it up, all her fury welled up and tumbled out of her. “What right did they have to give Regina or Gold any crap?” she demanded. “Or Hook? Did you know that David told Hook to stay away from me? Like I can’t handle him myself? Or make my own decisions? Maybe he thought I would catch villain cooties. That seems to be what this was about,” she muttered.

“I knew he spoke to Hook,” August said. “I don’t like the guy either, but you’re right; it’s your business.”

Emma snorted. “You’re the first person to say that. Not even Hook - did I tell you that he knocked his past self unconscious because he was getting handsy?” They were getting off topic, but Hook was a safer target for her anger than her parents. 

“What?” August laughed, “No.”

“I read him the riot act. Apparently, he thought he wouldn’t take no for an answer. And I guess he’d know, right?” 

“He thought… woah. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. He was just a handsy drunk. At least up until that point. You’ve seen him at the Rabbit Hole; does he take no for an answer?”

“To be honest, he didn’t get that many “no’s”. Whatever else he is, he his hot. Really, ridiculously hot.”

“He…?” She glanced at him incredulously. “Would you sleep with him?”

“Pretty sure the guy is 100% straight. Which I find deeply ironic considering the name of his ship.”

“But if he weren’t… would you?” 

August make a low, reluctant noise in his throat and admitted, “If I didn’t think he’d kill me for it in the morning? Absolutely. But then I have a long and storied history of thinking with my dick.”

Frankly, that didn’t sound too bad to Emma right now. It had been a while since she’d had a meaningless one-night stand. She knew August and Tink had a friends with benefits thing, and that didn’t sound too bad either. _I must be losing my mind if I’m thinking of Hook this way._ “He us unreasonably attractive. Physically speaking. Too bad he’s such a creep.”

“I thought he’d finally backed off. Has he started up again?”

“He gazed at me forlornly when he was doing his time for breaking into the library, and he thinks he might be able to help with Poseidon. That’s about it.”

“Well, that’s something. He’s been quite the regular at the Rabbit Hole since then, but I noticed Chuck cuts him off a little earlier now.”

“How does he respond to that?”

“He grumbles, but falls in line. They all do. Getting banned from the Rabbit Hole means your only options are Granny’s and the liquor store. And no one wants to mess with Granny.”

She smiled briefly. “So the great Captain Hook is afraid of something after all. Anything else I should know?”

“He really likes Jimmy Buffet.”

“What?” she guffawed.

“He really likes Jimmy Buffet. Once he discovered the jukebox, it was all over. It’s actually really funny, because a lot of the regulars hate it, but no one wants to mess with him. Nottingham tried it once, but… it didn’t go well. I will never see Changes in Latitude the same way again.”

“What? What did he do?”

“Oh, you know, shoved his hook in Nottingham’s face, threatened him. Hook does seem to have something against Son of a Sailor, though,” August continued, “I suspect daddy issues.”

“You’re not messing with me are you? My superpower is not at 100% out here.”

“But my lie prevention system is. I swear I’m telling the truth.”

Emma shook her head, amused. She was still angry - blindingly so - but damn it felt good to have a friend. She could only hope that Lily would feel the same way.


	30. Parts to Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness of this chapter! Would you believe I lost track what day of the week it was? Happy New Year!

Lily felt it as soon as Emma entered the place. She looked up and saw she had a man with her. _Of course the Savior has followers._

_But why is she here?_

Lily was close, she was sure of it. She would find Snow White and Prince Charming, and she would make them pay. She’d known she would probably have to go through Emma to do it, but she had been hoping… she wasn’t even sure anymore.

_Too late now._

She smiled. It was easy to pretend she didn’t know them. She was a good liar. “What can I get you?”

Emma, forthright as ever, stared. “Coffee,” she said vaguely. The guy touched her arm and urged her to sit, then smiled warmly at Lily. She wasn’t used to warm smiles.

Frowning, she poured the coffee. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he said, saluting her with his cup. “I’m August.”

“August? You’re five months late.”

He grinned. “Or seven early.” If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was flirting with her. Suddenly, she wanted him, if only because he was Emma’s. She wondered what prince he’d been back in the Enchanted Forest. He looked a bit scruffy for a prince, but the Savior wouldn’t be with anything less.

“I’m Emma,” Emma said. She didn’t mean it as an introduction.

Lily ignored that. “Starla,” she offered.

Emma nodded, not correcting her, but she knew who she was really talking to. _Why the hell is she here?_

_She’s here to stop me._

_Not gonna happen._

Lily glanced outside at their car. If she could take it out - or take it - there was not rental or taxi place anywhere in town. She’d have a decent head start. 

“So how’s your day been?” August asked.

“Oh, can’t complain. You?”

“I’ve had worse.” Lily nodded and turned to her other customers. She could feel Emma’s eyes on her, and after a bit, August started talking to her about movies. Emma fell into an easy back and forth with him, and Lily felt another stab of jealously.

And irritation. They were clearly waiting to corner her. Who did they think they were fooling? She meant to wait until one or both of them when to the bathroom before trying for their car, but her boss was a stickler for scheduled breaks and shooed her out the back at half past on the dot. She grabbed her jacket and bolted, but by the time she reached their car, they were already waiting there.

“Lily,” Emma said.

“Sorry, what was that?” she bluffed.

“Lily,” Emma repeated more confidently. “You know who I am.”

“You’re Emma,” she teased, “You gave me your name. And my name’s Starla, not Lily.”

“Your name is Lily. You were my friend. And I know you’re looking for Storybrooke - that you have been for a while now. We’re here to take you there.” _What?_

“I think you’re got me confused with someone else.”

“No, I don’t. And you know I don’t. Please, come back with us. Your Mom might be in trouble.”

“I don’t have a mom.”

“You do, and she’s been searching for you-”

“Then why hasn’t she found me yet?” Lily snapped. Lily had no illusions that Maleficent would want her any more than anyone else had. The Apprentice had told her whose fault it was that she was here, but Maleficent was supposed to be a badass evil fairy who could transform into a dragon. If she had wanted to find Lily, she would have by now.

“It’s… complicated. But she set out to find you months ago, and she’s missing. The Author is free-”

“Free! Why?” The Apprentice had assured her that the Author had been punished. Had Emma actually let him _go?_

“We thought he had information we needed. And he did. Lily, I am so sorry for what my parents did to you-”

“Don’t,” Lily growled. She didn’t want platitudes, and she damn well didn’t want excuses.

“Lily-” Emma tried again. August put a hand on her arm, and she cut herself off.

“We’re not going to make you do anything,” he assured Lily. “But we can all help each other here. We’ll tell you anything you want to know-”

“I already know everything I need to. And it doesn’t matter. I have a great life now. A great kid, a husband. I appreciate that you came all this way, but I’m over it. My life is here now.”

Emma glanced at her prince. “You’re lying,” she said.

Lily tossed up her hands. “Of course you would say that. Saint Emma! She always knows the right thing. Well, you’re wrong. Excuse me-”

“You have a map of Maine at your place with notes and clippings about us,” Emma said. 

“How do you know that?! Have you been spying on me?”

“I told you, your mother was looking for you. She could see you but not reach you, so she went looking for the Apprentice to get passage back to Earth. That was nearly a year ago, and she’d been missing since. The Sorcerer also pushed us to free the Author. They’re planning something, and we need your help to figure out what it is.”

“And why would I help you?”

“We can help each other. You were my friend, once.”

“You left me!”

“Because you lied to me and screwed things up with my foster family. But I understand why, now. I do want to help you.”

“Help me how? Are you going to take your darkness back?” 

“If there’s a way to do it, yes. Yes, I will.”

The prince looked at her, startled - _didn’t know about that, did you?_ \- then nodded reluctantly. “Is there someplace we can discuss this more privately?” he asked, “We’ll tell you everything, but it’s a long story.”

Lily didn’t know what they were playing at, but she knew they were in the way. It was in Emma’s nature (no, not nature - her goodness was stolen) to always make the “right” choice, the moral choice. Lily was the opposite; they could never coexist.

But she needed Storybrooke’s exact location, and they were offering it. She pretended to concede. “Fine,” she said. “My shift is over at three. I know a place. But I have to get back now.”

Emma half-smiled. “OK. We’ll be waiting.”

Lily forced herself to smile back. “OK.”

XxXxXxX

“So,” Regina said, “He’s gone.”

The Author had refused to say a word as long as Rumple was in the room, and after some terse negotiation - or at least the appearance of such - he had agreed to step outside. Regina had no doubt he was watching, and she was sure Isaac knew it too, but he smiled at her and said, “I must say it is satisfying to see you put him in his place.”

She could not argue with that, but he said it with a slimy undertone that told her everything she needed to know about him. She crossed her arms and leaned against the table, angling one leg just so. He looked her up and down in a way he probably thought was discreet. “It can certainly be gratifying,” she said. 

“I must say it’s an honor to really get the chance to meet you. You know, of everyone I’ve written about, you really did get screwed over the most.” 

“Thank you, I’m aware,” she said darkly, aware that it wasn’t true. Perhaps she had thought so in her darker moments, but she was within a hairsbreadth of her happy ending now, and that had lent her some perspective. 

“So what are you going to do me?” he asked, blatantly eager.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On how cooperative you are. I want to find my friend, you could help with that.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll turn up.”

“Where? When?”

He smiled in a way he probably thought was charming. “You’ll see.”

“How about the Apprentice, then? What can you tell me about him?”

“He lacks a sense of humor,” he said, and the casual way he said it made her stomach clench. She didn’t see an ounce of anger or fear in him. He wasn’t a good person who had been twisted by pain and magic like she, Ingrid, or even Rumple had been. He simply did not care. 

“That’s why you did it? For fun?”

“For the story,” he reminded her.

“And why is this story so damned important?”

“Art is always important.”

“Art? Our lives are art to you?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling like he expected her to find it flattering. “You know, if I’d been able to, I’d have made you the hero.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“The Apprentice trapped me in the Book.”

“So that’s your story? You’re trying to write me as the hero?” It was tempting - or would have been a couple of months ago. She didn’t need to be the hero as long as she had Henry and Robin.

“If I had my Quill, that is exactly what I would write.”

“Is this the part where you ask me to steal it for you?”

“Would you?”

“No.”

“I could write you a happy ending.”

“I’ve got one.”

“You sure about that?” She stood up straight.

“Was that a threat?”

He shrugged. “Just a question. Nothing’s guaranteed until the story is over.” And suddenly, she understood what the puppet had been saying all along. The man was pathetic and slimy, be he was also very, very dangerous. More dangerous than Rumple or Emma. Perhaps even more so than the gods. The laws of magic did not apply to him, and with the correct tools, he had as much control over her life as any god. And he did not see her as a mere mortal or even an animal; he saw her as a character, someone who wasn’t even real.

Without a word, she walked out of the room. “Hey!” Isaac called, “Where are you going?”

She shut the door behind her. Rumple stood there with his son, watching the room through a portal he had set up on the wall. “Something wrong, dearie?” he asked her.

“We can’t let Emma bring Lily back here.”

“Why?” Baelfire asked.

“Because she is the final ingredient. She is the ink.”

Rumple gaped at her, and Regina could not deny the satisfaction she felt at having seen something he had not. “She is the dark heart of the Savior,” he confirmed. “Well done, Regina.” He pulled out his phone.

“But what about Lily?” Baelfire asked. “We need her.”

“It’s not safe,” Rumple said, beginning to dial.

“It’s not safe for her to be out there,” the boy insisted. “Do you think the town line is going to stop the gods?”

Rumple paused. “You’re right,” he said.

“So what do we do?” Regina asked. “Can you put the Author back in the Book?” 

“No. Pandora’s Box could serve, but that would only be temporary. There is only one solution I can think of.”

“The Quill,” Baelfire said. 

Rumple nodded. He summoned the Quill to him. No one asked if they should consult the Council. He looked at the thing. It looked perfectly ordinary, but Regina could feel the magic in it from where she was standing. Grimly, Rumple handed his cane to Baelfire, then took the pen in both hands, snapping it in half without fanfare. “There,” he said. “And just to be safe…” He extended his hand, offering half of it to her.

She stared at him. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted to safeguard one of the pieces to this, didn’t you?” he asked. “Take it.”

“Why me? Don’t tell me you trust me.”

“I don’t. But I refuse to play whatever part the Author and the gods intend for me. I’ve just destroyed an irreplaceable magical object and am entrusting half of it to you. Do you think they expected that?”

Slowly, she smirked, taking the offered piece of wood. “Let him stew for a bit,” she said of Isaac. “Then I think I’ll try again.”

Rumple nodded, retrieving his phone and dialing Emma.

XxXxXxX

Ursula - and Cruella - woke up a stranger’s apartment. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time in a while. On one hand, he was pretty low on the scumbag scale (a petty thief that hadn’t taken any liberties, even with Cruella throwing herself at him). On the other, he still had it pretty bad for his ex-wife, the Red Queen. Ursula could send him back to Wonderland, but she saw no need to tell him so; she doubted it would do him much good anyway. When Cruella swanned out of there with a perfunctory, “Thank you for the shelter, darling,” Ursula left too.

“Thanks,” she said on her way out, a bit more sincerely.

He wasn’t fooled for a minute. He smiled. “Good luck to you. An’ keep an eye on your friend, there.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she said. “Just be glad you don’t have pets.” He chuckled.

With nothing better to do, she followed Cruella. They ended up at the diner. The old werewolf that ran it ignored them when they sat at the counter and tried to order. The logical response would have been to go somewhere else to eat, but Cruella was rarely logical and Ursula just didn’t feel like it after last night. She watched, amused, as Cruella drummed her fingers on the counter, and she waited for the inevitable explosion. 

The door opened and Ursula glanced over. Regina’s son bounded inside first, holding the door open for his (adopted) mother. The Evil Queen paused, staring at them, before Rumple nudged her from behind. “Don’t block the doorway, dearie.” 

He glanced at them, letting them know he saw them but that they were no threat to him. As far as Ursula could see, he hadn’t changed, and yet he’d gotten his happy ending (and how weird was it to learn that he’d been after his son the whole time? Ursula never would have guessed that). Apparently, he had been right all those years ago: the rules did not apply to him.

“Regina, dear,” Cruella said, twisting her stool around to face them, “How does one get service in this place? A little heart rip? It was you that ripped out the hearts of every villager in the North Woods, wasn’t it? Or was that you, Rumple? There’ve been so many, I get confused.”

Regina froze, taking her son’s hand, but Rumple’s kid responded, “She thinks we don’t know what you’ve done. That’s cute.”

“Ooh,” Cruella said, toying with her necklace, “The boy is darker than I realized.”

“Not dark,” he said, “Just not an idiot.”

“Apparently not.” She smiled seductively, and the kid just rolled his eyes. He grabbed a chair from one of the tables and added it to a booth. He looked expectantly at not only his father and the maid, but Regina and her boy. 

She shook her head, “Henry, wait outside. I’ll be right there.”

“But what about-”

“We’ll go somewhere else for lunch-”

“Oh, don’t be that way, darling, it was just a little joke,” Cruella interrupted, “Tell me, how did your meeting with the Author go?”

“He was very helpful, actually,” Rumple said smoothly. “Given the right…persuasion.”

Cruella laughed delightedly. “And here I thought you’d lost your edge.” She leaned forward eagerly, “Tell me, did he scream?”

Rumple leaned forward and smugly answered. “No. But he might have cause to when her learns that I destroyed his Quill.”

Cruella laughed and clapped her hands. “Marvelous!” And then, conspiratorially, she asked, “Have you considered going after the other one?”

“All right, that’s it!” the werewolf declared. “Get out. This is a family establishment.”

“Fine,” Cruella said, sliding off her stool, “I’m sure you have better refreshments than this place,” she cooed at Rumple.

He chuckled and held out a hand to her. “Of course I do.” She took it - or tried to. At the last second, he snatched his fingers away. “But I’m afraid your company would sour it.”

Ursula - and half the diner - snickered. Cruella glared back at her, huffing in her humiliation. “Et tu, Ursula?”

“Well,” Ursula said, standing up, “We are villains. Come on, let’s find someplace quieter.”

“If there is anything else in this hick town. Really, Regina, what were you thinking? I know you wanted to make everyone suffer, but this is simply too much.”

“You heard Granny,” Regina shot back. “Get out.”

“So you’re an old werewolf’s attack dog, now? Such a step down from Evil Queen.” Regina’s lips trembled with rage, and she pulled her son behind her, ready to give them an earful. Cruella merely waved her off. “Save your breath, darling, we’re leaving.”

Ursula had reached the door, and she held it open for her. “Enjoy your happy endings,” Cruella called, laughing, over her shoulder, “They never last.”

Silently, Ursula agreed with her. She just didn’t think it was funny.

XxXxXxX

“What was that about?” Regina demanded as soon as the door closed. “You were provoking her.”

“She’s interested in the Author, remember?” Rumplestiltskin answered, “I was trying to discern weather she wants to use him… or wants revenge.”

Regina frowned thoughtfully. “She was happy you destroyed the Quill.”

“Precisely. You heard her; she wants to see him suffer.”

“You think he wrote something about Cruella, changed things for her,” Henry said.

“I do,” Rumplestiltskin replied. 

“What do you think he changed?

“I don’t know yet.”

“Yet another question he will refuse to answer,” Regina said.

“Perhaps. Perhaps Emma will be able to shine some light on it when she returns.” And perhaps Rumplestiltskin would have to persuade Regina get a bit more forceful. 

Belle smiled and tugged his hand. “Let’s eat and discuss Poseidon. I noticed Ursula didn’t join in Cruella’s taunting. If we can find a way to free her voice, she might help us.”

“She might know what the Author did,” Regina said.

“She might,” he agreed. 

Henry beamed at him. Ever since learning the truth, Rumplestiltskin had never let himself think of Henry as Bae’s son, but since the truth had come out - and they had begun to spend time together - it was getting harder to deny. It was one more thing added to a situation that was increasingly spinning out of control, but when Bae had smiled hesitantly and Henry had grinned, it didn’t seem like such a terrible one.


	31. Repair the Past

Killian wasn’t a thinker. He never had been. He also wasn’t good at waiting. Unfortunately, those were his only two choices right now. He could wait patiently for Emma to return from her quest to find Maleficent’s daughter, or he could consider everything he knew of Poseidon and try to find a solution without her.

Feeling the need to move, he left his ship to wander up and down the docks. The few workers he could see ignored him, as they always did. 

In truth, Hook did not remember a lot of the details of what had happened between himself, Ursula, and Poseidon. He knew he’d double-crossed her and taken her voice, and he’d thought for years after the fact that he’d been ever so clever, getting one up on the Sea King. But time and experience had had made him realize that the only reason Poseidon had not taken the voice back was because he had chosen not to.

_Why?_

That was the question. Hook had never asked himself that before; he simply hadn’t cared. Gods will do as they will, as incomprehensible to mortals as men were to crabs and fish. 

Was it part of the plan? Emma was convinced the gods were interfering in her life in order to bring about some great destiny. Killian could believe it. They were known to do that with their favorites, and surely the Savior was a favorite. But Poseidon did not have favorites among mortals; he hated them.

No, not mortals: pirates. _That’s right…_ Ursula’s mother had been killed by a pirate. Poseidon had seemed to have no love for the Dark One either, but then who did? But what about other mortals?

Even if he did not hate them, the God of the Sea had no reason to love them; they lived outside his realm. All the tales said Poseidon had no interest in anything outside his domain, including the doings of other gods. He cared about the sea and the creatures in it and nothing else.

He also cared about his daughter, or at least had. Hook had never been clear on what had happened between Ursula leaving his ship and her becoming a force in the Enchanted Forest, but she had clearly had an additional falling out with her father, probably because he could have returned her voice and chose not it. Could he be persuaded to forgive her, or was choosing a life on land too much of an insult? He would not be the first father to disown his child for choosing a different path.

Killian was hardly an expert on reconciling with fathers. His one attempt to do so had ended with his father dead for the crime of disrespecting Liam’s memory. So what could he do? Tell Emma everything he knew, certainly. Perhaps she could make sense of it. But Killian wanted to do more, to have a solution for her, offered up like a gift.

He leaned against a piling and stared out at the sea. The cold bit at him relentlessly, but it helped clear his head. Generally speaking, the seas of the Enchanted Forest were warm, and Neverland even warmer. If nothing else, Killian could at least be grateful that Storybrooke was not Neverland.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The cold stung his lungs. Deciding the sea would yield no answers, he wandered into town. He was familiar with the Rabbit Hole, the coffee shop, the baker’s, the grocer’s, and the bank (apparently, gold was not currency in this world; it had to be exchanged for currency). He rarely ventured elsewhere, in part because he preferred to split his time between the pub and on his ship, and in part because he was barred from a significant section of Main Street due to the crocodile’s “restraining order”.

He saw the crocodile, his lady, Baelfire, Regina, and Henry leave the diner and enter the library. The Dark One noticed him, leveling a weighty stare in his direction. Bae noticed his father’s wariness and followed his gaze. He watched Killian calmly for a moment, then guided his father inside with a light touch to his arm.

Killian’s old resentment was still there - always would be - but it didn’t burn hot anymore. Instead, something nagged at him. _If ever a rift had existed between father and child…_

To this day, Killian did not understand how Baelfire had been able to forgive. He was simply a better man; on that Killian and the Dark One could agree. But there had been more to it. They’d had help. Killian looked up. He was standing outside the cricket’s office.  
 _  
Of course!_

Killian started to smile, then frowned. The last time he’d spoken to this man, he’d tortured him for days. He should just go back to the ship and wait for Emma; she and the cricket were friends, and he would help her without question. But that felt too much like cowardice, and whatever else Killian was, he was no coward. He went inside.

XxXxXxX

August watched Lily carefully as they finished their coffee and ordered brunch. Like Emma, she was easy to read, and, unfortunately, what he read didn’t bode well. After eating they returned to the car. 

“What do you think?” Emma asked him. Her eyes said she knew the answer but was hoping for something different.

“She’s angry.”

“Justifiably so.”

“Yeah. But I think she has it out for you. And your parents.”

Emma stared at the steering wheel. “I think so too. But we can’t give up on her.”

“I know. But what you said, about taking the darkness back-”

“It’s wrong,” Emma said. “She should not have to carry that the rest of her life.”

“I get that. But you’ve never lived with darkness before; you didn’t grow up with it like other people do-”

“You think I can’t handle it?”

“I’m afraid that you might not be able to.” 

“So what am I supposed to do? Just leave her like that?”

“You know I’d never tell you what to do, just… be careful, all right?”

“I will. Gold destroyed the Quill, so the Author changing things is off the table. But that’s a part of my soul she’s walking around with; it’s not right!”

August knew that, but everything about it made him apprehensive. He nodded anyway. “I know. But there may not even be a way to do it. Not without the Author, and as you said, the Quill is gone.” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“I hope she sees it that way. In the meantime… maybe she can talk to Jiminy. Or Gold? If he can crawl out from under the curse of the Dark One, Lily can learn to cope with your darkness.”

Emma smiled slightly. “Or I can. We have to try to win her over. I have to try make this right.”

He put his hand over hers on the wheel. “I know. We’ll try.” Her smiled deepened, and he saw an innocence in it that she never used to be able to show people. They’d both come a long way - not to mention Gold and Regina. Maybe Lily could too.

Three o’clock rolled around, and Lily trotted out of the diner, knocking on the window of the car. Her smile was too friendly to be real. Emma rolled down her window and told her to get in. “Where to?” she asked.

She directed them to a deserted park overlooking a sports field. “I was hoping this place you knew was inside,” August complained, rubbing his cold hands.

“No one made you two hang out in the car while you waited,” she said. “You said you were going to tell me the whole story, so do. To start with, which prince are you?”

August and Emma laughed. Lily frowned angrily, so August quickly explained, “I’m not a prince. I’m Pinocchio.”

“Pinocchio? So, if you lie to me, your nose will grow?”

“Actually, no. If I lie to you, I’ll starting turning back into wood. It hurts, so I shall not be doing that.”

“And why are you with Emma?”

“We’re friends.”

“Hm. Why are you grown up? I thought the curse stopped time.”

“Um, I wasn’t actually cursed.” It was as good a place to start as any. He told her the entire story (he had plenty of practice by now), emphasizing Blue’s part in it, and how that dovetailed into the gods and the Sorcerer. He was banking on Lily not wanted to be a pawn any more than the rest of them had been. It seemed to resonate, as Lily asked strategic questions, getting progressively angrier and trying to hide it. _This isn’t going to end well._

“So you’re friends with Rumplestiltskin now,” she said skeptically.

“It’s… a little more complicated than that,” August said.

“We’re allies,” Emma said. “And he’s been teaching me how to control my magic. He can teach you.”

“What makes you think I have magic?” Lily asked defensively.

“Aside from the fact that you are Maleficent’s kid, the orb that they were using to see you only works for people on Earth if they have their own magic. Something about anchors; Gold could explain it better.”

“And you don’t know where my mother is.”

Emma shook her head. “Regina’s been looking for her since she went missing; they’re friends. Gold hasn’t had any luck either, but he thinks that with a blood relative, he might have a better shot. I won’t lie; we may not be able to find her until the Sorcerer decides that we will, but the Author said she still has a part to play. She’s alive, and she’s been looking for you.”

“And you’re here to reunite us because… why? You feel guilty? Or because it’s your job, oh Savior?”

“I’m here because someone obviously told you what happened, and we need to know who and what else they told you.”

Lily arched her eyebrows, clearly not expecting that response. “Why?”

“Because you’re a part of this, this plan the gods have concocted. We need to know what it is, so we can defend ourselves.”

Lily pursed her lips. “Defend yourselves from what? Being the Savior? The way I see it, you got a pretty sweet deal.”

Emma fought an angry retort, instead telling her, “I don’t want to be a pawn. How about you? You’re angry; you have every right to me. I’m angry too. We’ve got the guy that made it happen sitting in a cell in Storybrooke. Do you really just want to be a character in his story? Not even a character - a plot device. We’re re-writing the story-”

“You said you’d take it back.”

“If there is a way. He didn’t have the right to do it. My parents did not have the right. The gods do not have the right, and neither does the Sorcerer. Help us. Please.”

Lily crossed her arms. “OK. Let’s go.”

“OK?”

“Yeah, OK. You wanted me to come back with you, right? I said OK. Let’s go.”

“OK.” Emma nodded decisively and buckled her seatbelt.

“Do you need to call your boss?” August said. “Or get your toothbrush?”

“I’m used to travelling light.”

That set off alarm bells. “What about your necklace?” Emma asked pointedly.

Lily smirked and pulled a large, crescent moon pendant from under her shirt. “I learned from last time.”

Emma nodded. “OK.”

“I’ll call Gold,” August said as Emma started the car. He watched Lily out of the corner of his eye.

She eyed him, but her hard expression never changed. “Good. Tell him we’ll be there in about eighty minutes,” Emma said.

“Will do.”

XxXxXxX

Storybrooke was both exactly and nothing like Lily had imagined it. The Apprentice had described it as cursed, but also explained that Emma would save it, freeing the people from the yoke of the Evil Queen. She expected once twisted buildings made beautiful and admiring crowds bowing to Emma, led by the “virtuous” Snow White and Prince Charming.

Instead it was a perfectly ordinary seaside town, cozy and quaint with clock a tower and a diner. It was Mayberry in Maine, and just what Emma had been looking for all those years. It was a home. Lily hated it.

They pulled up in front of the library, tucked neatly under the clock tower. Lily wondered if the clock chimed, and if it bothered the people trying to read. “Why are we stopping here?” she asked.

“Normally, we’d meet at the Sheriff’s Station, but the Author is there,” Emma explained.

“Oh.”

It was a nice library. Lily had spent enough time homeless to have seen the inside of a lot of libraries. This one had been recently updated by someone who cared a lot about books and not just a flashy space - the kind of person who was usually kind to a young woman traveling alone… at least until they figured out there was something off about her.

From the crowd of people waiting inside, she pegged either the tall, thin woman in the flowered cardigan or the short woman in the short skirt and leggings as the librarian. The smallish man in the absurdly expensive suit was clearly Rumplestiltskin. And the pale brunette with red lips… she had to be Snow White.

“Where is your father?” Lily asked Emma.

“With my mother, I assume,” Emma said coldly. Then, more kindly, she said, “Lily, let me introduce you to Baelfire, Mr. Gold, Belle, Henry, Nova, and Regina.”

“You’re the Evil Queen?” Lily asked the brunette.

“Not anymore,” she said. 

“Right. That’s what Emma said.”

“It’s true!” Henry said cheerfully. “But she is still friends with your mom. She’s going to help find her.”

Lily looked at Gold - Rumplestiltskin. “How? Emma said having a blood relative might help? No offense, but I really don’t want to give you my blood.”

He smirked. “Wise - blood is powerful in magic. Unfortunately, it may be necessary. I don’t even know if it is possible, but I am attempting to write a new type of tracking spell that uses blood instead of personal objects. In theory, there should be a way to make it work; there was even a successful historical example of an object that could do this, but unfortunately, it was destroyed years ago. On the other hand, if we can deduce her location based on the information we are gathering about the Apprentice, it may not be necessary after all.” 

_Real subtle there, Dark One._ “I have a deal with Emma,” Lily said.

He looked expectantly at Emma, who twisted her lips like she expected him to disapprove. “Is there a way to take my potential for darkness out of Lily and put it back in me?” she asked.

Everyone except Rumplestiltskin exchanged worried glances. _Of course they all only care about the Savior._ Lily had been living with this darkness for thirty years, but heaven forbid Saint Emma have to take it back. But Rumplestiltskin only touched his chin thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t even know how to begin to do that,” he said, “And as I told you over the phone, the Author is now incapable of it as well.”

“What about the Apprentice?” Lily asked. “He’s the one that did it in the first place.”

“And I have no doubt that he could undo it, the question is: how would you compel him to? I expect Emma already explained the difficulties he has caused for us.”

“He was sorry,” she said.

“How do you know that?” Regina asked shrewdly.

“He’s your source, isn’t he?” Emma asked. “He told you what the Author and my parents did and about Storybrooke.”

“Maybe,” Lily said, crossing her arms.

“Did he say anything else?” Emma said.

“Why should I tell you that if you haven’t held up your end of the deal?”

“Because it may help us find him, and he’s our best bet for reversing this.”

“And he may have manipulated you,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“What do you mean?” Lily asked suspiciously.

“We’ve known for some time that the Sorcerer is planning something that involves the Author. It’s possible that whatever it is, is also involves you.”

“But that’s the Sorcerer, not the Apprentice.”

“There are united in purpose; the Apprentice serves the Sorcerer.”

“Not always,” Lily said.

“Why to do you say that?” Regina asked, now very suspicious.

“He said he wasn’t supposed to tell me,” Lily admitted. It didn’t matter anyway. She was here for Snow White and Prince Charming; nothing else mattered. She started to feel a sort of buzz behind her eyes. _Magic?_

Rumplestiltskin stood up straighter. Emma looked at him. “The Apprentice might not be in on it,” she said, like it was a revelation.

“Oh, he’s definitely in on it,” Rumplestiltskin said, “But is his faith wavering? That could change everything. Assuming, of course, it’s true.”

“She was telling the truth,” Emma insisted. Lily suddenly remembered her “superpower”, which had never told her anything other than what she wanted to hear.

But, apparently, even Rumplestiltskin trusted her judgment. “But he may not have,” he said.

They kept talking. Lily tuned it out. She didn’t really believe that there was a way for Emma to take the darkness back; the Apprentice had pretty much said it was a done deal. And even if there were a way, it wouldn’t happen, not for her. Whatever the Sorcerer was planning, she didn’t care. She wasn’t here for her mother or for anything other than here revenge on Snow White and Prince Charming. Looking at their allies, she didn’t expect to make it out of this town alive. She was fine with that.

XxXxXxX

Archie has been understandably nervous when he’d found Hook in his waiting room earlier that day. He knew from August that the pirate had been spending most of his time drinking, neither continuing his past criminal acts nor seeking to make amends. He was apparently deeply in love with Emma, and Archie had wondered if that love might someday translate into attempts to better himself.

It had seemed that today was that day. He’d apologized, stiltingly, then immediately launched into an appeal for Archie to help him reunite Poseidon and Ursula. Not knowing whether to trust it, and with an afternoon full of appointments, he’d told Hook to come back that evening.

He had.

“Emma has returned,” the captain announced upon entering Archie office. “I saw her car in front of the library.”

“Good,” Archie said. His heart was pounding, but he’d never turned away someone who was trying to be better. Perhaps he was a fool, but his faith in people had often been rewarded and rarely betrayed. He hoped this was the former. “Hopefully, that means they found Maleficent’s daughter. Now tell me about Ursula and Poseidon.”

Hook’s story was sad and succinct, and Archie suspected he was leaving parts out - probably having to do with his own involvement. But he did take responsibility for taking Ursula’s voice.

“He could have taken it from me,” he said, “Just as easily as he took the squid ink. He chose to leave it behind. Ursula returned to the sea and he followed her; I expect he knew she would leave again as soon as he gave it back to her. Seems she left anyway.”

“Do you believe they can be reconciled?”

“I’d expect not, but then I never expected Baelfire to forgive his father either. That’s your gift, isn’t it? That’s why they come to you.”

“I’m a mediator. They did all the work. Do you think mediation would help?” Archie never thought he’d be called upon to do family counseling for a god, but then he’d never expected to do it for the Dark One either. The story Hook had told was only too human; if Poseidon was human enough for that, perhaps there was a chance.

“Ursula seems convinced not.”

“And how about you? You witnessed a lot of this.”

“I don’t know. But I do know he could have killed her, stripped her powers, or brought her back by force at any time. He wanted me to be the one to take her voice to persuade her to stay.”

“You think he cares about her, and her opinion of him.”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll try. What do you want me to do?”


	32. Gods and Mortals

Emma wasn’t blind; she knew something was off with Lily. She knew about leaving a place on short notice, but Lily hardly had money to burn; it would have been easy to swing by her place to let her pack a bag. And now that they were here, she hardly seemed to care. She had told the truth about the Apprentice, but she didn’t seem to care about finding Maleficent or much of anything else. _Could she have just shut down?_

Emma didn’t think so. Instinct told her why Lily had come, and she was not about to let that happen. She glanced at the clock. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready for dinner,” she announced.

“But what about the Apprentice?” Henry asked. Emma rubbed her forehead.

“We’re just talking in circles at this point. I think it’s time to take a break, and I should check in with Hook about Poseidon.”

“Poseidon?” Lily asked, but it seemed perfunctory.

“Ursula’s dad,” Emma said. “It’s complicated.”

“Ursula was banished with me,” Lily said, suddenly interested.

“Yup. She’s agreed to tell us what she knows about it, but she wanted her voice back in exchange. Only Poseidon can do it, and the only person in town who’s met him, aside from Ursula, is Hook.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Hook?”

“Captain Hook,” Henry said. “From Peter Pan.”

“Does he look like Dustin Hoffman?”

Emma snorted. “No. Why don’t you guys go ahead while Gold and I call him.”

Lily looked at her shrewdly. “We can wait.”

“You could. But, well…Hook is a bit of a creep.”

“You think I don’t know how to handle creeps?”

“He’s a creep for Emma,” August explained. “He thinks he’s in love with her. Sure you don’t want strength in numbers?” he asked her.

“I can handle him,” Emma said dryly. “You guys go, get us a couple of tables together. This won’t take long.”

Still suspicious, Lily agreed, “OK.” Regina, also, looked at Emma knowingly, and Emma knew she would be answering a lot of questions later.

Regina grabbed her coat and smiled at Lily. “Come on,” she said, “We’ll tell you what’s good. And what isn’t.”

“Sure,” but Lily didn’t buy it. She was still casting them suspicious looks as she followed Regina out the door.

Emma pulled out her phone as they left and pretended to dial. She put it down once the door closed behind Belle. “What do you think?” she asked Gold.

“I think she’s dangerous,” he said.

“Me too. You know that spell you put on Regina to keep her from attacking my parents in the Enchanted Forest?”

“Yes,” he said, catching on.

“Can you put it on Lily? Without her knowing? I’ll owe you a favor.”

He smiled. “Easily.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “I guess I should call Hook.”

“If you deem it necessary,” he said, “Although I have little faith that he will be any help.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the Dark One; you’re allowed to be pessimistic.” 

“I prefer to think of it as realism.”

“You’re Rumplestiltskin, and I’m about to call Captain Hook about getting Poseidon to return Ursula’s voice. Realism has no place here.”

He chuckled as she dialed. It rang six or seven times before a breathless Hook answered. “Emma!”

“Did I catch you in the shower?” she joked.

“What?”

“Never mind. Look, Lily agreed to come back with us, and we’re all about to have dinner. Do you have some time after that to talk about Poseidon?”

He laughed breathlessly, “I can do better than that, Emma. I have him here.”

“Him… Poseidon?”

“Aye. And he has agreed to return the voice. Do you know where we can find Ursula?” 

Emma looked at Gold. “We can get her. Where are you?”

“My ship.”

“Great. We’ll be right there.” She hung up, immediately dialing Ursula.

“Good news, I take it?” Gold asked. Emma nodded.

“Not to jinx it, but for once, something is going right.”

“Jinxes don’t work that way.”

Emma grinned. “Call Belle, tell them to eat without us; we have an appointment with a god.”

XxXxXxX

Poseidon was as good as his word. He returned Ursula’s voice, even apologizing for trying to take it in the first place. Both the doctor and Emma smiled at Killian, and it felt damn good to actually do the right thing for once.

Ursula sang a rising scale, and it was a lovely as Killian remembered. She and Poseidon beamed, and somewhere in his dark heart, Killian was glad for them both. “So,” the sea witch said to Emma, still grinning, “A deal’s a deal. What do you want to know?”

“I’ll leave you, now,” Poseidon said.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Now that you’re whole again, I will leave you in peace.”

“Wait…” Ursula said. He paused. “My voice is the only thing we have left of Mother. You took it from me once; I don’t want to do the same to you.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ve missed you.”

Tearfully, they embraced. “I’ve missed you too.”

As they pulled away, she explained, “I made a deal with the Savior. But once I have answered her questions, I will return with you. Wait for me?”

“Of course I will wait for you,” he said.

“Um, if you’re willing…” Emma said, “You might have some answers for us as well.”

He looked at her curiously. “For bringing my daughter back to me, I am in your debt. I will answer your questions if I can, but first, I must ask one of you.”

“Yeah?”

“How is it that the Savior, the Dark One, and his nemesis have all allied?”

Emma glanced at the crocodile, struggling to find the words. “Sheriff Swan and I share a common interest,” he supplied. “As for the pirate, you’ll have to ask him.”

“What interest can the Savior and the Dark One share?”

“We want to be left alone,” Emma said bluntly. “The Sorcerer has been messing with both of us, and we want to know why.”

“I see. Unfortunately, I can offer no insight. I have never concerned myself with the Sorcerer.”

“But the Apprentice is the one that sent me to this world,” Ursula said. 

“After being compelled to by the Author,” the Dark One added, “We do know that much. However, the question remains: why did he leave you here? The Apprentice could have retrieved you, if he had desired, but he did not.”

“No idea,” Ursula said, “Except that I doubt he gave a damn. What does he care if two villains end up on Earth?”

“Did he say anything before it happened?” Emma asked.

Ursula shook her head. “Your parents had stolen Mal’s baby. Cruella and I had just found them when the portal opened up. I always thought it was an accident we got sucked in.”

“Unlikely,” the Dark One said. “The Author has admitted he sent Lily here to protect Snow White and Prince Charming from Maleficent’s wrath. The two of you could likewise have informed Maleficent who was responsible for her child’s disappearance.”

“So he sent us here,” she said flatly.

“Most likely,” the Dark One confirmed. Ursula and Poseidon both frowned.

“It’s not the Author’s place to change things,” the Sea King said.

“We know,” Emma said, “And the Sorcerer trapped him in the Book to stop him once, but now he seems to be trying to set him up to do it again. Or he was, until Gold broke the Quill.”

“I see.”

“I don’t suppose you’re aware of any other sin the Author committed against Cruella?” the crocodile asked Ursula.

“No, but I do know she wants him dead.”

“What about my parents?” Emma asked anxiously.

“That’s kind of the weird thing; she doesn’t seem to care about that. She liked it here, to tell the truth. You saw she did well for herself.”

“I did,” Emma said. “So it’s got to be something else.” The Dark One nodded. “One more question,” she said to Poseidon.

“Yes?”

“We think… there’s a good chance one or more gods are involved in this whole thing. Someone sent a golem to this world thirteen years ago, one so advanced Gold was thinking only a god could have created it. Do you know who might have done that and why?”

It was a bold question. It was not generally wise to question a god’s motives, or imply they had done wrong, but Poseidon did not take offense. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I prefer my own realm, and rarely hear from my brothers and sisters, let alone the other pantheons. Do you know why the golem was sent?”

Emma braced herself, glancing at Killian and then back at the god. “It got me pregnant.”

Poseidon raised his eyebrows. “A golem? You’re sure?”

“Reasonably,” the crocodile said. “I had to rely on my analysis of Sheriff’s Swan’s memories, but it is the only explanation we have for how the father of the Truest Believer could carry my son’s essence.”

Poseidon frowned deeply. “If that is so… such a creature would be an abomination. To create such a thing would trespass on the order of nature, and the domains of other gods.”

“And that’s… not allowed?” Emma asked.

“At best, it is an act of disrespect. At worst, a declaration of war.”

“Gods have wars?”

“Certainly, although not the way mortals do, with many soldiers. My brothers Hades killed our father Kronos and attempted to murder our brother Zeus. In retaliation, Zeus exiled him to the underworld.”

“Hades,” Emma said thoughtfully, “Could he be behind this?”

“I would put nothing past him.”

“And if he were to interfere, would Zeus try to stop him? We think the golem was created in the first place because Baelfire was brought here by the curse, which should not have been possible.”

“He would,” Poseidon agreed.

“Do you know if there is a way for Hades to escape the underworld?” the crocodile asked.

Poseidon smiled wryly. “Completely? Only one: True Love’s Kiss.”

The Dark One’s eyes widened. “Gold?” Emma asked.

“Zelena,” he said.

“She and Hades had some kind of run-in.”

“Think about it: what kind of woman could love the God of the Underworld?”

“The Wicked Witch,” Emma said, catching on. “But I spoke to her. She didn’t let any details slip, but I can tell you she does not love him.”

“The Author can make her love him.”

Emma’s green eyes locked with the Dark One’s. “Then it’s a damn good thing you destroyed that Quill.”

“I will inform Zeus,” Poseidon said. “If he has proof of interference, the other gods will support him against Hades, and the Sorcerer will be addressed. They will not trouble you any further.”

“Thank you,” Emma said.

“Thank you,” Poseidon insisted. “I see I have misjudged mortals, even pirates.” He looked at Killian with a fatherly sort of smile.

“You didn’t,” he said. “Not then. I am endeavoring to improve myself now.”

“And that is what I have learned; mortals can change. And perhaps gods can change as well.” He smiled at his daughter, who smiled back. He held out a hand to her. She bit her lip.

“One more thing,” she said.

“Yes?”

“My friend Maleficent has disappeared. They’re trying to find her.”

“We think it’s part of this whole thing,” Emma said. “She went looking for the Apprentice a year ago and hasn’t been heard from since. Gold is trying to create a spell to find her using her daughter’s blood, but we don’t know how long that will take.”

“You need the Globe of Bluebeard.”

“Unfortunately, it was destroyed,” the Dark One said.

“No, it wasn’t. It’s here, in this realm.”

“In this…? Cora.”

“Cora told you it was destroyed?” Emma asked.

“My supplier told me it was destroyed; Cora must have deceived him. Thank you,” he said to the god, bowing slightly.

Poseidon inclined his head magnanimously and held out his hand to his daughter once again. Ursula took it, then said, “Oh, wait.” Poseidon looked on puzzled as she pulled out her wallet and presented Emma with a plastic card. “A bet’s a bet, and I don’t need this anymore. The PIN is 3474. There’s a couple hundred in there.”

Emma shook her head. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“I keep my word. Give it to Mal’s daughter if you don’t want it.”

Emma smiled and took the card. “Thanks.” Ursula smiled and left with her father, not looking back. 

“So, Regina’s vault?” Emma asked after they’d gone. 

The crocodile nodded. “Most likely.”

“I’ll text her to meet us there.” 

The doctor stepped forward, obviously intending to join them, but he looked back at Killian hopefully. Emma did too. “You coming?” she asked.

Killian scratched behind his ear with the tip of his hook. “I believe there is a ‘restraining order’ still in place.” Emma looked at the Dark One.

He exhaled, his face hard and dangerous. “I trust you know what I will do to you if you harm my family again?”

“I do,” Killian answered. “Any grievances remain between the two of us.”

“Then I won’t prevent you from accompanying us. For now.”

It was as close to a truce as they were likely to get.


	33. Look to the Future

“The graveyard? Really?” Lily scoffed.

“What’s wring with the graveyard?” Regina asked.

“It just seems a little on the nose, that’s all.”

Emma, Rumple, Hook, and Hopper were all waiting outside her vault. “I’m not sure Maleficent is going to be interested in therapy,” Regina said. “And why is the pirate here?”

“He’s the one that got Poseidon to talk to us,” Emma said. 

“Actually, it was the doctor,” Hook admitted. Humble really wasn’t a good look on him.

“Ho- Killian asked for my help with Poseidon,” Archie explained.

“Oh. A reasonable suggestion that actually worked? Pinch me, I might be dreaming,” Regina said.

“Don’t say that, please,” Emma said, smiling slightly, “Things are finally looking up.”

Rumple, likewise, seemed eager if not amused. Apparently, the meeting with Poseidon had gone very well. “The globe, if you would?” he asked.

Encouraged, she retrieved it quickly, returning to find Lily casting distrustful glances between Emma and the pirate. While Regina could understand loneliness, and the desire to celebrate a triumph, she really hoped Emma would not fall into bed with him just because he seemed to finally be getting his act together. “Got it,” she said. “Naturally, the answer was sitting in my vault the entire time.”

“That is how our luck has been, but if Poseidon comes through, we might finally be at the end of this,” Emma said.

“What do you mean?”

Emma flashed her smile. “Once we have this taken care of, we’ll get the Council together and explain.”

Archie and Rumple nodded knowingly, and even Hook seemed contented. Only Lily seemed suspicious of the situation. Regina held the globe out to her. “I’m not sure how this works, to be honest with you,” she said. “But somehow, I expect Rumple does.”

“All you need to do is prick your finger on the spindle on the top,” he said to Lily. “One drop will do.”

Lily eyed it, radiating mistrust. “And if I don’t do it?”

“Then it will be a great deal more difficult to locate your mother.”

“I do know about you, you know. If you want my blood, you’ll just take it.”

“I’d deal for it. But to be entirely forthright, if Poseidon carries through with his promise, my need to locate your mother has just diminished greatly. It doesn’t matter much to me if we find her now.”

“So why are you still here?”

He shrugged. “I don’t like to leave a task unfinished.”

Emma looked at him shrewdly, but she had the good sense not to say anything. “Please,” Regina said. “Maleficent is my friend. The only thing she wanted was to be reunited with you. I promised to help her if I could.”

Something in Lily’s expression cracked, and Regina could have been looking into a mirror from not so long ago. Lily didn’t lash out simply because she carried more darkness than the average person, she lashed out because she’d been hurt. Regina could have laughed in commiseration. _We’re a regular villain rehabilitation center, aren’t we?_

Lily reached out and pressed her fingertip to the spindle. “Ow!” she said and sucked on the end of the digit. The globe filled with red mist.

XxXxXxX

_Is this magic?_

Lily watched in fascination as the red cloud inside the globe formed into a… map?

“That’s Storybrooke,” Regina said. “She’s been here the entire time?”

“Color me not surprised,” Captain Hook - _seriously, Captain Hook?_ \- said.

Rumplestiltskin glanced at him resentfully - Lily could clearly see there was some tension there - and held out his hand, asking for the globe. Regina let him have it. “She’s in the mines,” he declared, peering at it.

“We searched the mines,” Regina said.

“That means nothing if the Sorcerer was not prepared to allow you to find her.”

“Let’s hope he’s prepared now,” Emma said.

“And if he’s not?” Lily asked.

Emma looked at the group of them. “I like our odds,” she said.

The mines were dark, but at least marginally warmer than the bitter cold outside. The Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin conjured magic lights to illuminate the tunnel, Emma receiving an impromptu magic lesson on making her own. Rumplestiltskin looked at Lily. “Would you like to try?”

“What will it cost me?” she asked.

Instead of getting offended, he smiled. “For this single lesson? On the house.”

“I thought all magic came with a price.”

He smiled crept wider. “It does, but if you’ll forgive me for saying so, I believe you’ve paid it.”

Lily laughed breathlessly. “I guess so. So how do I do this?”

He sounded like some BS hippie guru, going on about focusing emotions and crap. Irritated after several failures, she decided if he wanted a strong emotion, he could have a strong emotion. She balled her hand into a fist and imagined it breaking Snow White’s nose. 

“Woah!”

The tunnel lit up like a darkroom, a blinding ball of red light edged in black surrounding Lily’s fist. Emma, Hook, and Dr. Hopper jumped back, but Rumplestiltskin and the Evil Queen just nodded like it was normal. “Very good,” the Dark One said. “Would you like to learn how to change the color?”

“No.” The light vanished. 

“Very well.” He nodded, and they kept going.

They found her in a glass coffin. “The Apprentice has strange sense of humor,” Rumplestiltskin deadpanned.

“Is this my mother’s coffin?” Emma asked.

“Yes,” the Evil Queen said.

Maleficent was asleep. Or dead. Emma looked at Lily. “You’re the one who can wake her.”

“Me?”

“It’s a sleeping curse, right, Gold?”

Rumplestiltskin opened the coffin and placed his fingers on her neck. “No,” he said, “Just a stasis spell.” Now he looked at Lily. “But you can break it; I can show you how.”

“No,” she said, crossing her arms. “I don’t think so.” She didn’t look at her mother’s face, only getting an impression of a glittery black dress and messy blonde hair.

Emma looked disappointed. Lily didn’t care. “Very well,” Rumplestiltskin said. 

He extended his hand again, and Maleficent began glowing purple. She started to breathe, and then her eyes snapped open. She sat up with her hands wreathed in magic before any of them could blink, and the Evil Queen called out, “Mal! Mal, it’s me!”

“Regina?” she gasped.

“Yeah,” the Evil Queen stepped forward and helped her climb out of the coffin. “You’re in Storybrooke. You’ve been under a stasis spell for almost a year.”

“Storybrooke?” she asked hopefully. She glanced at the group, her eyes landing on Lily. She gasped. “Starla?” Her dress just screamed witch, a weird, ragged creation in black and dark purple, covered in tiny beads. Her hair was likewise deliberately wild, and Lily could picture that horned headdress perched on top of it. But the expression on her face…

She reached out both of her hands, “It’s you. You’re here.”

Lily took a step back. “I’m here.” Goddamn, she looked ready to shatter into a million pieces. Lily didn’t want that. 

Realizing that Lily would not take her hands, she instead raised them to her mouth, smiling as broadly as anyone Lily had ever seen. _Smiling at me._ “You’re so beautiful,” she said.

“Uh, yeah. So… um, how’d you end up in that coffin? Was it the Apprentice?”

She crushed her lips together, lowering her hands awkwardly. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I was attempting to track Ingrid, to locate the Apprentice and negotiate a way back to you, and then nothing. You said it’s been a year?” she asked the Evil Queen.

“Yeah,” Emma answered. Maleficent suddenly went still. “A lot’s happened. Let’s get something to eat and talk about it. And Maleficent… I’m sorry. For what my parents did. I didn’t know, that day we came for the potion.”

Maleficent looked at her, and instead of the rage and vengeance Lily was expecting, the Mistress of All Evil smiled reluctantly and said, “You’re not responsible for what your parents did.” Then she turned to the Evil Queen. “If she’s here, that means you found your son, didn’t you?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad.” _This is it? This is Maleficent?_

“He’s waiting topside, with the rest of our allies.” Emma said, “A lot’s happened, and you might be able to help us. Will you?”

She looked at Lily again, smiling shyly. “Would you like me to?” she asked.

Lily shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

“The Author is the one that made the Apprentice banish Lily to Earth,” the Evil Queen said. “It was part of a larger plan. You’ll want to know the details.”

“Lily?” she asked.

“Me,” Lily said. 

“Starla was a fake name,” Emma explained.

“Oh. Lily. It’s beautiful.” She looked at the Evil Queen. “Yes, I think I should know these details. And if you have an questions,” she glanced at Lily through her lashes, “I will answer them.”

“Great,” Emma said, “Let’s go. We’re meeting everyone at the diner.”

“Everyone?” Maleficent asked.

XxXxXxX

It was decided that David and Snow could not be excluded from the meeting. Neither Emma nor Lily seemed happy about it. Rumplestiltskin didn’t much care either way; he was merely looking forward to being able to tell his family some good news for once.

Before they entered the diner, Maleficent glanced inside and said, “Perhaps I’d better change.”

“It’s fine,” Emma assured her.

“Do you even have other clothes?” Lily asked.

Maleficent only smiled, transforming herself with magic. Lily gaped as her mother’s witch’s robes and wild hair were exchanged for a smart, gray skirt suit and sleek, golden tresses. “Whoa.”

“I can teach you,” she said. “You have magic; you can do all of this.”

“What about turning into a dragon?”

“Yes! I would love to teach you that.” 

Lily shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll think about it.” She practically fled into the diner, and Rumplestiltskin might actually have been moved to pity if Maleficent and her compatriots had not once kidnapped Belle. He was not a forgiving person.

“Rumple!” Belle called joyfully as he followed Regina into the diner.

Maleficent glanced at her curiously, but only for a moment; her focus was solely on her daughter. “Belle,” he greeted her warmly, sliding into the booth and leaning over for a kiss. 

“Is that Maleficent?” Bae asked.

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin answered. “And Poseidon was eminently helpful. We may be coming upon the end of all of this.”

“Really?” Belle asked. “What did he say?”

“Emma will explain, as soon as everyone arrives.”

“What about Hook?” Bae asked, “Why is he here?” The pirate hung back, hovering somewhere between Emma (already deep in conversation with Henry), and the cricket (receiving a pat on the back from the puppet). 

“Did he help with Poseidon?” Belle asked.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “His contribution endeared him to both Miss Swan and Dr. Hopper. I can remove him if you wish it.” He curse jeered the idea that he had let the pirate accompany them (or live) at all, but it was little more than background noise at this point.

“Do you think he’ll cause trouble?” Bae asked.

Rumplestiltskin considered it. “Not today,” he said truthfully.

“All right,” Belle said. “Then he can stay for now. Will you order something?” she asked hopefully.

They’d discussed his eating habits at length with Dr. Hopper. As anticipated, Belle had not been happy with the idea that he used magic to eat, but she had come to accept it was necessary sometimes. They’d discussed other strategies, which he promised to employ first, only resorting to magic when necessary. It was almost always necessary.

He didn’t know if it would be necessary now. He gestured to Donna, who had already taken an order for Dr. Hopper. She nodded, hurrying over to them. “Have you had dessert?” he asked Bae and Belle. The idea of pie appealed, and it had been quite some time since anything had.

Belle smiled brilliantly. “No.”

They ordered pie. 

David and Mary Margaret arrived. Lily stared at them, her intentions clear. Rumplestiltskin did not expect she would react well to discovering that he had enchanted her to be unable to harm them, but an untrained witch would hardly pose any challenge to the Dark One. Rumplestiltskin was far more concerned with Poseidon, and whether he would keep his word.

As Donna served dinner and desserts to the late arrivals, the presence of the Dark One, Captain Hook, Regina, and now Maleficent effectively cleared out anyone who was not affiliated with the Council. Once they were gone, Emma looked at Rumplestiltskin questioningly. He was as eager to share the news as she, and he nodded, pushing away his empty dessert plate (he had not needed to resort to magic after all). Emma stood up with her back to the bar and raised her hand. Any scattered conversations died, and she began, “Thank you. Um, we have good news. We had a conversation with Poseidon tonight. He confirmed some things for us, and, well, he was very grateful for us helping to reconcile him with his daughter. He said he would speak to the other gods, and if we’re right about which god has been behind all of this, it might… be over.”

“Who was it?” Henry asked eagerly.

“We think Hades.” She explained their theory about Zelena, glancing at Rumplestiltskin in apology as much as for confirmation. Belle took his hand, and he held hers in both of his, gratefully.

“Are we sure he can’t still do this thing?” the grumpy dwarf asked. “Zelena’s been pretty slippery so far.”

“He can’t without the Quill, and Gold destroyed it,” Emma said. They all looked at him.

“It was the most expedient solution,” he said dismissively.

But of course they wanted to know details. Emma fielded most of them, with Regina chiming in. The details of their exchange with Poseidon of course led into their discovery of Maleficent, and that led to the subject of Lily.

“This is Lily,” Emma introduced her awkwardly to the group. The women in question shifted nervously under their scrutiny. Maleficent scanned the crowd, her eye out for threats.

Emma had clearly not put enough thought into exactly how much to tell the Council about Lily, because she then stood there, struggling for words. “Uh, the Apprentice sent her here, to Earth,” she said, looking to Lily for guidance. The other woman merely stared at her aggressively, neither contradicting nor confirming her statement.

“The Author arranged it,” Mary Margaret said. 

“What about the Author?” the dwarf asked, obliviously changing the subject. “Did he tell you anything?”

“We’re toys to him,” Regina said. “He has some story in mind for us, but without the Quill, there’s nothing he can do about it now.”

“So… we’re in the clear? It’s all over?”

“If Poseidon pulls through,” Emma said. “Yeah.”

“Well,” he said, raising his glass, “I’d say that calls for a party!” He brothers cheered. Granny grinned and started retrieving beer glasses. Emma, looking a little hunted, glanced out over the crowd. Henry popped out of his chair and rushed over to give her a hug. She grinned, fragile but sincere. Belle leaned against Rumplestiltskin, beaming at him fondly, and Bae sprawled against the back of the bench, hopeful and joyous. Rumplestiltskin smiled, impulsively pulling Belle into his lap. She squealed and laughed, and he laughed with her. 

XxXxXxX

Lily left. Maleficent followed.

“It is a bit noisy in there,” she said, far too… motherly.

“So when are we going to get them?” she asked bluntly.

“Get them?”

“Snow White and Prince Charming, and the Author too. You have some kind of plan, right?”

She chuckled, more self-depreciating than dark. “Well, no. I did not plan for them to be in this world at all when I found you.”

“But they are, so we can get revenge.”

She shook her head sadly. “Revenge only cost me my first chance to find you. Now that I have, I can’t risk losing you the same way again. I understand why you want it, but we should look forward, not back.”

“Seriously? We’re going to let them get away with this?”

“The Author is in prison.”

“Snow White and Prince Charming aren’t! They’re in there, having a party with their perfect, little family!”

“And so can we. We can be happy in the future. Or we can be angry about the past.”

“Let’s do both.” Lily curled her lip. “Man, all those years since the Apprentice told me what happened, I’ve been trying to figure out how two humans could get me away from a freaking dragon! But now I get it. You’re a pushover! What’d they do? Rub your belly? Give you a dragon treat?”

“Lily… no. I did everything I could. You heard Regina explain that’s how the Author wrote it. All I want to do now is enjoy our time together. I am your mother…”

“Well, I’m grown up now. I don’t need grooming advice from Annie Hall. I’ve gotta go.” She took a step back.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.” She - Maleficent, the Mistress of All Evil - crumpled like a little kid. Lily didn’t stop. August had mentioned a bar called the Rabbit Hole; it seemed as good a place to go as any.

XxXxXxX

Broken-hearted, Maleficent watched her daughter leave. Once Lily was out of sight, she glanced inside the diner. Snow White and Prince Charming did look happy, and that wasn’t fair. But when had the worlds ever been fair to villains? Even a chance at a happy ending was more than they had had before, and Maleficent knew they could make it work… if Lily were willing.

Would she be willing after she had had revenge? Maleficent did not expect so. And she would have burned her bridges with all their possible allies. Maleficent wanted the people who had sacrificed her daughter to burn - oh, how she wanted it. But if they were going to have a future, she could not allow it. Feeling disloyal, she returned to the diner and sought out Regina.

Without either of them saying a word, Regina immediately knew what had happened. She gestured to the Savior and the three of them took a booth in the corner. “I believe Lily plans to seek revenge,” Maleficent admitted. “Please don’t hurt her-”

“We won’t have to,” the Savior said. “Gold put an enchantment on her so that she can’t hurt my parents. And I don’t think she wants to hurt anyone else.”

“The Author,” Maleficent said. 

“If anyone deserves it…” Regina muttered.

“Can you convince her locking him up and destroying the Quill is enough?” Emma asked.

“I can’t convince her of anything,” Maleficent admitted. “She’s not ready to listen.”

“I’ve been there,” Emma said wryly. “We’ll move the Author,” she said. “We have a secure prison under the hospital.” 

“And then?”

“We wait. Once she finds out she won’t get anywhere, she might calm down,” but she clearly did not believe that.

Maleficent smiled tightly. “We can hope.”

“It’s gotten us this far,” Regina said. “We’re almost there, Mal, we’ll make it work.”

Maleficent knew that most people would disagree with her that Regina was an optimistic person. Most people were fools. “Thank you,” she said.


	34. Would It Bring You Joy?

_  
You have got to be kidding me._

Cruella De Vil was at the bar. White fur coat with a red silk lining, long, black cigarette holder (not lit), and she even had the two-tone hair. “Another gin, darling,” she cooed at the bartender.

Lily didn’t know what to do. Teaming up would be the villain thing to do, wouldn’t it? But she didn’t want to. This was her revenge, and from the fur to the diamonds, everything about Cruella just screamed that she thought was better than everyone else. Lily didn’t need that. 

A lanky man at the bar spotted her and waved, smiling kindly. Lily didn’t need that either, but between him and Cruella, she was going to have to sit next to one of them if she wanted a drink. She went with him. 

“Hey,” the bartender said, “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“I’m new in town.”

“Oh, one of the monkeys?”

_Monkeys?_ “Yeah. A beer. Draft. Please.”

“Sure thing!”

He was way too cheerful for a dive bartender, and she wondered if he was some kind of dwarf; he had the beard for it. “I’m Will,” the lanky man next to her said, sipping on his own beer. 

“Starla,” she said absently, hoping he’d get the hint.

“Starla?” Cruella asked, grinning eagerly. 

“Marla,” Lily corrected.

Cruella’s crimson lips pursed into a wicked, sultry smile. “Are you sure, darling?”

“I know my own name, lady.”

Cruella laughed. “A pity,” she said. “If you were Starla, we could have helped one another.”

“With what?”

“Well, that hardly matters if you’re not her, doesn’t it?”

“Whatever.” The bartender set her beer on a paper coaster, and Lily reached for her wallet.

“Put that on my tab,” Cruella told the bartender.

“OK,” he said. She obviously made him nervous, and Lily knew a normal person would feel bad for him. She didn’t. Instead, she just sized up Cruella.

She was dangerous. She exuded the kind of darkness Lily had been expecting - hoping for - from Maleficent. But she was a user too, an almost laughably transparent one. Lily wondered if it was because she was used to dealing with men who fell all over her, or if her magic just made it so easy in the Enchanted Forest that she didn’t have to try.

“Nothing burns me more than watching someone get away with something; don’t you agree?” she asked.

“No,” Lily said, just to be contrary. Will laughed into his beer.

Cruella only smirked. “I can still smell a liar even if I’ve had a gin or three, darling.”

“Well, that makes me want to help you,” Lily said, bitingly sarcastic. Will laughed again. Cruella shot him an annoyed glare, effortlessly melting it into a charming smile - or what might have been charming if Lily was in the habit of thinking with her hormones.

“Allow me to be frank with you,” Cruella said.

“OK, Frank.” Will was either really easily amused or had had more beers than Cruella had had gin, because he collapsed into the bar giggling helplessly.

People were starting to stare, and Cruella pursed her lips, annoyed. Lily smiled. Maybe her life was shit, but she could still screw with someone who thought she was better than everyone just because she had diamonds and a fur coat. “How mature. And here I was hoping to have an adult conversation.”

“I think you were bound for disappointment if you came here for conversation,” Lily said. “Sad drunks aren’t usually the best time.”

“Are you sad?” she asked slyly.

Lily snorted at the obviously play. “No, but I’m starting to think you and every other villain in this town is. Ever since I got here, all I’ve seen is supposedly badass villains drinking cheap gin and eating pie.”

“And weak beer is better, is it?”

“I’m not the one with a franchise.”

“You could be.”

Lily laughed. “Is that what you call being subtle?”

“It’s what I call cutting to the chase. Rumplestiltskin may be an irritating midget, but he was always right about one thing: when two parties both have something the other desires, a deal can always be struck.”

“And just what is it you think I want?”

She leaned in close, a devil if Lily had ever seen one. But devils were old hat by now. “Why, revenge, of course, darling,” Cruella purred.

Lily nonchalantly took a sip of her beer. “And what is it you want from me? I always figured Cruella De Vil could get revenge all by herself.”

“Of course I could, but what fun is it without friends? And I seem to have lost all mine.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Lily said flatly. Cruella didn’t give a rat’s ass about friends. She was like a drug dealer or a sleazy grifter boyfriend (Lily had known plenty of both); she wanted something, and Lily was just a tool towards that end. Lily was sick of a lot of shit, but she was especially sick of being used.

The only possible response was to use her right back. 

Cruella curled her lip and clutched at her glass, annoyed that her ploy wasn’t working. Lily let her stew for a minute, then asked, “What did you have in mind?” 

Cruella smiled, lighting up like a child who had just been given a lollipop at the bank. “What do you know about the Author?” she asked.

“He’s a dick,” Lily said truthfully.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea.”

XxXxXxX

By the time the party had reached full swing, Rumplestiltskin was more than ready to leave, but he stuck it out to make Belle happy. Apparently, his ability to guess what made her happy had not improved much.

“Let’s get out of here,” she muttered into his ear.

“You want to?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling impishly, and he looked over at Bae. Bae seemed pleased by the evening’s developments, but had not bothered to join the party. Rumplestiltskin leaned over the tabletop, “Do you want to go home?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Bae said, grabbing his coat.

On their way out, they ran into Emma on her way in. “Oh, Gold. We moved the Author. Just a precaution.” Maleficent stood behind her, looking concerned. Rumplestiltskin had not missed Lily’s departure earlier.

“That seems wise,” he agreed. “Do you expect Lily to act soon?” Emma looked at Maleficent. Maleficent nodded. “You have my number,” he said.

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but thanks, Gold. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Emma.”

Belle and Maleficent shared a meaningful glance, and while Rumplestiltskin had never been one to forgive, he expected that Maleficent would be welcome in the library sooner rather than later. He would have to remain vigilant (as if he could ever be otherwise), but through his mistrust (and his curse) he could recognize more than a little of himself in the fallen fairy. But then he never much cared for himself, either (he and the good doctor had begun to discuss that - the resulting conversations were extremely uncomfortable). 

Still smiling, Belle said her good nights and tugged him outside. He took her arm and they walked home. He found himself admiring the light snow that had begun to fall, and how it glittered in the glow of the streetlights. He could not allow himself to simply trust that Poseidon would deliver on his promise, but he found that he had more hope than was probably wise. Could it be over? Could they really be free?

_You will never be free._

_Somehow, I knew you would say that._

The house was cool inside, draughty old place that it was. Rumplestiltskin’s twitched his fingers to warm it with magic, but thought better of it, glancing towards the wood stacked in the living room. “How about a fire?” he suggested.

“Sounds lovely,” Belle said. “I’ll make tea.”

Bae helped him with the fire, giving him a hand up once it had caught. Somewhere along the line - he wasn’t sure when or precisely why - Rumplestiltskin had stopped constantly using magic to reinforce his ankle. He was sure Dr. Hopper would have a lot to say about that, most of it more generous than reality. Whatever the reality was.

Unexpectedly, Bae hugged him. _Here. Reality is here._

“Do you think it will last?” Bae asked as he pulled away, more a child than Rumplestiltskin had seen him in a long, long time. But weren’t they all children before the gods?

“I hope so, Bae, I really do.”

“OK,” he said, resolute.

Rumplestiltskin cupped his cheek. “My boy. I’ve been so proud of your through all of this. I want you to know that.”

Bae shrugged bashfully. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is, Bae, it really is. I’ve done so much wrong in my life, but you… you amaze me. Every day.”

Bae reached up, his fingertips brushing the back of Rumplestiltskin’s hand. “You amaze me too, Papa.”

Unearned, unwarranted, but by the gods, Rumplestiltskin believed him. “Thank you, Bae.”

Belle returned with the tea (hot chocolate for Bae). She giggled when Rumplestiltskin enchanted the tea table to march up to her, tapping its delicately scrolled legs smartly on the floor. “Why thank you, Mr. Table,” she said, setting the tray down. Bae took his mug and, with a grin, retreated to one of the fading, pink chairs by the window.

“Thank you,” Rumplestiltskin said as Belle handed him his cup and saucer. He glanced at the second chair, then at the antique bench cabinet that always looked a stiff breeze away from collapsing and was dreadfully uncomfortable to sit on. He shooed her towards the second chair and sat on the stool for his wheel instead.

He hadn’t touched his wheel since Zelena. It wasn’t only the memories. His wheel had brought him solace for so long, he could not bear to learn that she had taken then from him too. If he never touched it again, he would never know. But Belle would tell him to try. A brave man would try.

He sipped his tea. Bae got up and retrieved a stack of records and turned on the player. It crackled warmly, and a familiar snare and beep bass filled the rapidly warming room.

Rumplestiltskin smiled as John Lennon sang, 

“ _Shoot me, shoot me, shoot me, shoot me  
Here come old flat-top, he come grooving up slowly…*_”

The song didn’t make sense, but it didn’t have to. In the warm light of the fire, under the uncertain hope that the destinies that had been forced on them might finally have ended, the music was pleasant, and the only memories it stirred involved afternoons and evenings spent just like this, moments of refuge with his family.

He finished his tea. He looked at the dregs in his cup. He thought it funny that some people on Earth believed that tealeaves could foretell the future. The reality of Seers was so much more gruesome, even more than he had thought for so long. He beckoned the table over and set his cup upon it. Belle smiled at him.

“ _…Something in the things she shows me  
I don’t want to leave her now  
You know I believe and how**_”

He looked from his empty hands to the wheel. She’d dusted it in the time he’d been… gone. _Be brave._ He summoned a basket of wool and his carders from the basement. He had some roving ready, but he needed a little more time. _Coward._

Dr. Hopper had told him to be patient with himself. It was hard. He kept his head down; he didn’t want to see the expressions his family’s faces. China clinked and Belle stood up. “I’ll be right back.” She scurried lightly up the stairs and returned with the book she’d been reading before bed. Bae got his backpack and pulled out his sketchbook.

The carding did calm him, even as the anticipation of spinning made his belly twist. When the roving was ready - more than he needed - he took his time preparing the wheel. The record reached the end of side one, and as the player flipped to side two, he heard the soft scratch of Bae’s pencils and the rustle of Belle turning a page.

“ _Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo  
Here comes the sun, and I say  
It’s all right…***_”

The wheel began to turn. No magic. No gold. No Zelena. He was home. He was safe. The wool under his hands was softer than any he’d been able to afford as a spinner - _peasant_ , he had always been a spinner - but the motions never changed; they went back so much further than Zelena. Further than the Dark One. Even further than Bae. Losing Bae hadn’t taken that from him; even then he had liked to watch the wheel.

He still did.

He didn’t smile. He sighed, quiet and long. And he relaxed.

XxXxXxX

Lily whistled. “Nice place. Who’d you have to kill for it?”

Cruella laughed. “Nothing like that, darling; this is the Sorcerer’s mansion.”

Lily paused. Emma had told her about this place, and about the Sorcerer. The Sorcerer hadn’t even wanted Lily to know what Snow White and Prince Charming had done; the Apprentice had defied him to tell her that. “Have you seen the Apprentice?” she asked.

Cruella waved dismissively. “The Sorcerer and Apprentice can’t be bothered with us mere mortals.” She strutted into the place like she owned it. Lily followed her in.

Lily had learned a few things so far. She’d learned Cruella wanted the Author dead. And she’s learned that her first instinct had been right; Cruella didn’t give a damn about Lily or about revenge on Snow White and Prince Charming. She was on her own. _Just like always._

“The bedrooms are upstairs. Take whichever you like. Just not the master; that’s mine.”

“Of course it is.”

“And do be careful what you pick up; this place is full of magic.”

“Magic?”

“Of course. It is the Sorcerer’s, after all.” Cruella yawned dramatically. “Good night, darling.”

Lily rolled her eyes as the older woman sauntered up the stairs. _Could you be any less subtle?_ But when would she get another chance to case a place like this? 

The place was huge. There was expensive crap everywhere: a silver clock, crystal light fixtures. She found the library and filled her pockets with bejeweled pens, letter openers, and a magnifying glass. She found the kitchen. Tons of fancy china; shiny, copper pans - and no food. She took a couple of the knives.

Room after fancy room. No dust. No bugs. The place should be freaking her out, but she just didn’t care. The Sorcerer owed her. 

She saw the light under the master bedroom door. She walked past it, up to the third floor. She found a room overlooking the clock tower. She decided it would do. She took a long bath (the fancy, claw-foot tub didn’t actually have a shower). The place was fully stocked with soap and towels, but no toothbrush. No problem. She scrubbed her teeth with her finger. As far as places to crash, she could do way worse (and had).

She put her clothes back on and flopped on the bed. But she was restless. She always was. She got up again and wandered over to the large window seat. The clock above the library ticked past midnight. _The witching hour._

She laughed humorlessly, then sat, pulling her knees up to her chest. She still didn’t have a plan.

XxXxXxX

Zelena turned over restlessly. The Author was now a prisoner here, and Regina had not been able to resist gloating about it when she and the Savior had brought him in.

“And in case you get any ideas,” Regina had said, “Rumple broke the Quill. None of you are going anywhere.” 

“I’m sure he told you that,” Zelena had taunted.

“I saw him do it. And he gave me half. And Poseidon will be having a word with the other gods about Hades. It’s over, sis.”

“Hades?”

“We know he wanted you for True Love’s Kiss. I don’t know if he was going to use the Quill to brainwash you or give it to you as a gift, but it’s gone. He’s staying put. And so are you.”

Zelena immediately knew which he had intended - because she would have done the same - and her blood chilled. But she would never let her sister see that. “Thanks for the update, sis. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Regina had said. 

“ _Yes,_ ” Zelena had shot back. “It really does.”

It was late now. The cell was draughty, the mattress lumpy and hard. Hissing in frustration, Zelena turned again. In the faint light from the window, she saw something on the nightstand that had not been there a moment before. She sat up, peering closely.

_It can’t be…_

She picked it up. It hummed with magic.

_The Quill._

_Hades?_

She tightened her fist, ready to snap it, but stopped herself. This was her way out; she wasn’t stupid enough to waste it.

_What is he playing at?_

She climbed off the bed, carefully, quietly shifting the mattress away from the wall. She placed the Quill within and pushed the mattress back. She lay back down, trailing her fingertips against the bricks that separated her from the Author.

Tomorrow’s exercise hour was going to be very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lyrics from Come Together by the Beatles
> 
> **Lyrics from Something by the Beatles
> 
> ***Lyrics from Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles


	35. Mothers and Daughters

Breakfast with Maleficent was not as weird as Emma would have expected it to be. The last two nights, Regina had let Emma and Henry spend the night at her place (Emma was grateful - she knew she would have to settle things with her parents soon, but not yet). Last night, Regina had hosted Maleficent as well.

“Good morning,” the fallen fairy said serenely. Maleficent was the third fallen fairy Emma had met. Was it a coincidence that she had liked them all?

“‘Morning,” Emma yawned, pouring a cup of coffee. Emma had been surprised to learn that she and Regina shared a similar taste for strong coffee. Mary Margaret always made it too weak.

“Do you want to get Henry or should I?” Regina asked, burying her eagerness under a dry tone. If nothing else about all this made sense, there was no question that she had loved having Henry here. 

Emma glanced at the clock on the stove. “I’ll give him another ten minutes.” Regina nodded and started pulling out eggs for Henry’s breakfast. “Where’s Robin?”

“He took Roland to the diner.” Regina’s crystal ball was sitting on the table in front if Maleficent. It was probably best that Roland wasn’t around to overhear. 

“Lily and Cruella spent the night at the Sorcerer’s mansion,” Maleficent informed them.

“Are they planning anything?” Emma asked.

Maleficent shook her head. “Not that I can see. I think she’s just… lost.”

“What about Cruella?”

“I don’t know why she hates the Author so much, but she is trying to convince Lily to help her take her revenge on him.”

“As someone who’s worked with her, on a scale from one to ten, how dangerous is she?”

“On her own? Not very. I’ve never actually known her to take a life herself.”

“Really?” Regina asked.

Maleficent nodded. “I would not have guessed that,” Emma said. “Between her and Ursula, I totally would have pegged Cruella as the dangerous one.”

“In spirit? Most definitely. I’ve never known anyone who enjoys the darkness as much as she does. She has no regrets. I used to envy that about her.”

“Used to?”

Maleficent smiled distantly but didn’t answer the question. “Cruella’s powers were never or par with Ursula’s. Or mine.”

“How about Lily’s?”

“She cannot compare to Lily.”

“Explains why she wants her help.” Maleficent nodded.

“Could that be it?” Regina asked. “Maybe the Author did something to her powers.”

“Possible,” Emma said. “We could ask him, but I doubt we’d get anywhere. Unless you want to give it another shot…”

“I’d rather not,” she said.

“So, what’s the plan? Do we try to talk to Lily, or wait until she makes a move?”

Anyone could tell which option Maleficent _wanted_ to take, but she objectively pointed out, “I don’t think Lily is ready to listen.”

“You’re probably right,” Emma agreed. “Waiting it is.”

“There’s a third option,” Regina said.

“Yeah?”

“Mal could talk to Cruella. They go way back.”

“Yes,” Maleficent said eagerly, “If nothing else, I can learn why she desires his death.”

“OK,” Emma said, “We should get you set up with a phone first; we can do that after I get Henry off to school.”

“I can do it,” Regina said. “You should talk to your parents.”

“I already told them about Gold’s spell,” Emma objected.

“They need to be involved in this,” Regina said. “If you leave them out, sooner or later one of them is going to do something stupid trying to make it right; you know that.”

 _Damn._ She was right. How many times had they learned that they all needed to be on the same page?

_How many times have we learned that you can’t keep secrets? Why does everyone else have to own up but them?_

She didn’t know if it was the hypocrisy that bothered her the most or the betrayal. Who was she kidding? It was the betrayal. Her parents had been good people. Heroes. The kind of people she had always wanted her parents to be - to be herself. And it had been a lie, all of it. When push came to shove, they were just as selfish as Regina or Gold or any of the other “villains” in the story. Villains. She was getting sick of that word.

Maleficent used Regina’s crystal ball to check in on Cruella and Lily again (both still sleeping), and Emma woke Henry. Regina served him eggs while Emma grabbed some toast for herself. Regina ushered Henry and Maleficent into her Mercedes. “Do you need a ride?” she asked Emma.

“Nah. I might as well do a foot patrol on my way over there.” Regina tilted her lip skeptically. “I’ll see you after school, kid, OK?” she asked Henry.

“OK. Have a good day, Mom.”

“You too.”

With one more knowing look, Regina got into her car and drove off. Emma hunched her shoulders and headed towards town.

Her parents were at the diner. Emma walked up to the counter and ordered a coffee just to buy more time. Mary Margaret watched her hopefully, sitting up straighter and smiling nervously once she finally worked up the nerve to walk over to them. “Hello, Emma.”

“Hey. No Graham today?”

“He’s with Johanna. She told up to go out for a meal by ourselves. It’s hard; I keep wanting to call them.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there. So, I just wanted to let you know what’s up. Lily crashed in the Sorcerer’s Mansion with Cruella last night-”

“Cruella? They’ve teamed up?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Emma said, annoyed at being interrupted. “Cruella’s trying to get Lily to go after the Author, and we still don’t know why.”

“Does she know you moved him to the hospital?” 

“No. Maleficent’s going to go talk to Cruella, pretend to be interested in helping her. If nothing else, she thinks she can get Cruella to tell her what her beef is.”

“Good,” David said. “That’s good.”

“Yeah. So, that’s it… I’ll let you know what she finds out.”

“Emma…” Mary Margaret said.

“What?” Emma snapped.

She looked at David, crushed her napkin between her fingers. “How… how are you?”

“Better than Lily,” she said, her voice hard. “And better than Maleficent, who is actually a decent person when you get to know her.”

Mary Margaret looked down at the table. “Good,” David said. “I mean…”

“I know what you meant,” Emma said. “And we’re lucky - really lucky - that Maleficent is on our side with this; she knows what could happen to Lily if she gets out of control, and she’s more worried about that than getting revenge.”

“Have you talked to Archie?” he asked.

“You think I need therapy?”

“Lily might,” David said. “If Maleficent can’t get through to her… he was able to help with Ursula and Poseidon.”

“That’s… a decent suggestion. I’ll tell Maleficent when she gets back.”

“Good. Just… take care of yourself, OK?”

“…You too.”

XxXxXxX

The Author smiled enigmatically as Zelena was led into the exercise area. She smiled back, tilting her head coyly. “I don’t believe we have met,” she said, extending her hand.

He looked with interest at the shackle on her wrist, then took her hand, shaking it once. “I’m Isaac.”

“Zelena. May I ask how you ended up here?”

“The Sheriff said something about protective custody. I’ve got to say, I don’t think much of her accommodations.”

“Protective custody? From whom?”

“Someone who doesn’t appreciate good literature.”

“How awful.” Zelena sat next to him, touching his knee deliberately. “I don’t suppose you’d like to write something for me?”

He crossed his arms and leaned towards her. “If you could get me out of here? Absolutely. Problem is, I’m not sure you can.”

“That is the difficult part, isn’t?” Malcolm wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop. He cocked his eyebrow at her obnoxiously, and she tossed her hair, returning all her focus to the Author. Malcolm had proven to be useless, but with the Quill, she didn’t need him anyway. 

“If you have any ideas, I’m all ears,” Isaac said.

“So is my sister,” Zelena said, glancing at the walls meaningfully.

He grinned, delighted. “Really? And here I thought I’d been left here to be forgotten about.”

“They don’t do that here, laddie,” Malcolm interrupted. “These heroes are soft. Even the Queen.”

“Oh, she’s not soft,“ he said, annoyingly fond, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Zelena frowned. “Got a liking for the Queen, do you?” Malcolm asked.

Isaac looked Zelena up and down, still smiling that smug little smile. “I don’t think she appreciates the story I wanted to write for her,” he said.

“Then don’t,” Zelena said. “She never could appreciate what she was given. She left you here to rot.”

He looked around at the gray walls. “So she did.”

Zelena smiled and caressed his arm. “It’s terribly tedious. I hope they’ve given you something to write with to pass the time.” He did not miss her meaning.

“I could use a pen,” he said, smiling blandly. 

“I might have one you can use.” 

“That would be nice,” he said, but without recognition. He did not know the Quill had been left in her cell, and that meant that he intended to deceive her. He thought his Quill had been destroyed but was willing to let her think otherwise until she helped him escape. Zelena would have been annoyed if her happy ending were not so close.

She leaned closer. “And then maybe whatever story you intended for my sister you could write for me? I promise I would appreciate it.”

His smile never wavered. “I’m sure you would.”

XxXxXxX

Apparently, Cruella did not believe in getting up before noon.

Not about to wait around on yet another scumbag who wanted to use her, Lily decided to grab some breakfast - brunch, whatever - but on her way out the door, she ran into her mother. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“I came to talk to Cruella. And you, if you are willing.”

“What do you want Cruella for? Gonna give her the same speech you gave me? Good luck with that.”

Her mouth quirked. “Oh, I know. I came… to offer my assistance.”

“With what?”

“The Author.” 

“She wants to kill him.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Regina told me.”

“And you want to help? You won’t go after Snow White and Prince Charming, but you’ll go after the guy that gave them what they wanted?”

“All I want is a future with you. Rumplestiltskin has placed a spell on you that prevents you from harming Snow White and Prince Charming-”

“What?!” A nearby transformer sparked, and Maleficent stared at her, open mouthed. “What?” Lily barked. “Didn’t know I could do that? I’m the Savior’s dark half, remember? I fuck shit up.”

“I never felt your power before,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

Lily took a step back. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop calling me beautiful. Whatever Leave it to Beaver relationship you want is not going to happen. I’m here for revenge, that’s all.”

She smiled sadly. And that was the worst part. She was just so damn… sincere. “I understand. And if I thought it would truly help you, I would jump at the chance-”

“Then why go after the Author? What’s the difference?”

“The Author is dangerous. And he may know how… Regina said that you were looking for a way to return the Savior’s darkness to her.”

“It’s too late for that; Rumplestiltskin broke the Quill.”

“There might be another way. He might know where we could find the Sorcerer or the Apprentice.”

“It will be hard for him to tell you that when he’s dead… oh.” For the first time, Lily smiled. “You’re here to play Cruella.”

She smiled back, more wicked now. “I’d like to know why she desires his death. Did she tell you?”

“Nope. She’s shady as shit, and she knew I knew it. But I thought you were supposed to be friends, or something.”

“We were allies, but she betrayed me when she betrayed you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When the three of you arrived in this world, she told Ursula she would take you somewhere safe. She lied.”

“She… left me to die?”

“Yes.”

“Well.” Lily wasn’t surprised. “She wouldn’t be the first, would she? I’m going to get something to eat. Do what you want to her; I don’t care.” 

“I do love you,” Maleficent blurted out. Lily stared. “I want you to know that.”

Lily turned around and walked away.

XxXxXxX

The Apprentice found Lily on a bench in the park. She sat alone, staring out at the ocean.

His Master had been very clear. 

He didn’t want to do this.

But he would.

“Hello, Lilith.”

She turned. “It’s you.” 

“May I have a seat?”

She shrugged. “Free country.”

He sat. “You have many questions.”

“Sure. Like where the hell have you been? This was your spell; you could have undone it if you wanted.”

He lied. “I could not; the Author prevented me.”

“He can’t be preventing you now; his Quill is toast.”

“I’m afraid what he has already written stands. As he wrote that Cruella can never take a life-”

“Wait, is that why she wants me to kill him?”

“It is.”

She rubbed her forehead. “OK, fine. So I’m just screwed, then. No one can help me.”

“Your mother can help you.”

She looked at him sharply. “How?”

“She can love you.”

“Are you kidding?”

“I am not. Love is the most powerful magic in any realm. With it, you can learn to live with the darkness. As the Dark One has.” And that story defied all the Apprentice had known and all that his Master had predicted. And now made these further steps necessary. It seemed gravely unjust, but there were many more souls at stake here than just Rumplestiltskin’s.

"So True Love’s Kiss or whatever can undo this?”

“No. The spell I cast was not a curse. It cannot be undone.”

“So you just meant, what? I’m screwed, but it’s OK as long as I have my mommy?”

“The darkness in you is harder to fight than the darkness in others, but it can be fought, Lilith. Your mother had known darkness too. She would not turn her back on you.”

“Whatever. So, if you can’t fix this, why are you here?”

“I need something from you.”

“Of course you do. You know, Emma and August told me some interesting stuff about you and the Sorcerer. They think he set all this up, or is working for a god that did. They also think you might be reconsidering taking orders from that guy.”

“Did they now?”

“Yeah.”

“My Master serves the greater good,” he told her.

“I’ve heard that before. And let me guess, you were just following orders?”

“I serve the greater good as well.”

She shifted away from him, her posture the posture of a wary animal. “And what greater good would that be?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot share that with you. Or allow you to remember this conversation.”

“What? What are you-” He grabbed her wrist, slicing her forearm with a sharp blade. “Ow! What the hell?!” Her magic rushed forth to protect her as he knew it would, and he cast a spell to keep her immobile and her magic in check just long enough to allow him to press a vial to the wound, collecting her tainted blood for the Author’s ink.

“I am sorry, Lilith. If you allow it, you will find your peace in the end.” Unable to speak, she merely stared, nostrils flaring with rage and pain. When the vial was full, he destroyed her memory of the encounter and vanished, releasing the spell that bound her.

From the forest near the hospital, he could feel the explosion of her magic as she transformed into a dragon for the first time. He could just barely hear her enraged roar, and he opened a viewing portal, waiting for her to be seen before following his Master’s next command.


	36. Heroes and Villains

“What was that?” Bae asked.

Rumplestiltskin had heard it too. “I believe Lily is making her attempt on David and Snow. My spell will protect them, but there cold be collateral damage. Stay here and guard the shop, please.”

Bae nodded, reaching for his bow. “Sure.”

Rumplestiltskin followed the sound, appearing in front of the hardware store. Maleficent was standing in the street, watching with a mixture of pride and worry as Lily awkwardly struggled to fly towards the edge of town. Fortunately, he did not smell anything burning.

“Do you know where she is headed?” he asked Maleficent. She was flying in the opposite direction of both the loft and the Town Hall; if the Charmings were her target, her trajectory made no sense.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think she understands what she’s done. You have to be taught to fly, and she doesn’t know how…”

“She’s looking for a safe place to land,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed hastily. “Don’t hurt her, please.”

“I have no intention to. But if she needs someone to teacher her how to land, I am hardly the ideal candidate.”

“She…” Maleficent’s worried frown smoothed, and when Rumplestiltskin transported himself to a field in Lily’s sightline, she followed him. Rumplestiltskin stepped back as she walked to the center of the field and transformed herself, spreading her black wings in the winter sun. 

Rumplestiltskin could just barely see Lily over the tops of the trees, and she wobbled dangerously at the unexpected sight of her mother. Maleficent launched herself into the air, banking skillfully towards her daughter. Lily attempted to turn, one of her enormous wings dipping too low and nearly catching on a tree. Maleficent shrieked in distress, and Lily beat frantically, gaining enough altitude to pull her free of the tree line.

Maleficent made three passes of the clearing while Lily tried to fly ever higher, eventually exhausting herself. By the time Emma and Regina pulled up in the yellow bug, Lily had begun to attempt an inelegant landing. The ground shook as she hit it, her talons digging into the earth and throwing her off balance. He raised a hand, casting a spell to cushion her before she could collide with a large rock formation. She shook her head to clear it, and Rumplestiltskin, Regina, and Emma watched in fascination as Maleficent approached her and proceeded to speak to her in the language of dragons.

“What do you think they’re saying?” Emma asked.

“I think she’s asking for a chance,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“Lily?”

“Maleficent.”

After much tail lashing, grunting, and snarling, they seemed to come to some kind of agreement. Maleficent delicately touched her snout to her daughter’s, and then they both shed their dragon forms. Lily glanced towards Emma and Rumplestiltskin suspiciously, but grudgingly (and limping slightly) followed her mother as she walked across the field towards them.

Emma’s phone rang. “It’s the hospital,” she said, glancing at the number with a frown. “Sherriff here,” she answered. She shook her head in disbelief as the person on the other end spoke. “What? Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

“What’s happened?” Regina asked.

“Malcolm, Zelena, and the Author have escaped.”

XxXxXxX

Zelena flipped disaffectedly though the only book in her cell. They were all allowed to request books from the library, but she didn’t know enough about the literature of this world to make specific requests (and no one had offered to help her), so she simply asked for a new, random book every couple of days. She was certain at this point that either Regina or Rumple’s little librarian took pleasure in picking out the most mind-numbing garbage to send her. They had to know that boredom would force her to read it eventually, and this current offering (a nauseating collection of pabulum called Chicken Soup for the Soul) did nothing to dispel that theory. She sighed, gazing at the small strip of blue sky she could see through the high windows.

Suddenly, without explanation, the door of her cell swung open.

She set the book down and stood up, bracing herself for Regina, or Rumple, or whoever. Instead, she heard footsteps and an unfamiliar woman speaking to the Author. She peered out of her cell.

“So are you coming, or what?” a young brunette asked. She waved towards the hall impatiently, “My spell won’t last forever.”

“Who are you?” Zelena challenged.

“I’m Lily,” she said. “And we don’t have a lot of time. If you’re coming, come on.”

“Lily… Maleficent’s daughter?”

“Yeah. Are you coming, or not?”

“Why free us?”

“Because I need the Author to undo what he did. The rest of you are just a distraction.”

“In that case, you need me,” Zelena said.

“You keep telling yourself that.” She gestured one more time to the Author, grabbing his wrist when he seemed reluctant. “You will undo what you did if you want to get out of this alive,” she said. He put up a weak protest as she dragged him down the hall.

Zelena dove back into her cell, yanking the mattress away and grabbing the Quill. Unlike Isaac, she knew an opportunity when she saw one. She ran to catch up with Lily, finding Malcolm at the entrance, going through the guards’ pockets. 

“We don’t have time for that,” Lily said, “They’ll be here soon.”

“Waste not, want not, lassie,” Malcolm said, pocketing whatever he had found and jumping up to join them.

“Hold on,” Lily said.

She transported all four of them to the Sorcerer’s mansion. “You’ve really become quite the little witch that could, haven’t you?” the Author asked obnoxiously.

“Shut up.”

“Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but there might be a little problem with your plan.”

“What problem?”

“My Quill has been destroyed.”

“Then make a new one.”

“It doesn’t work like that. The Quill chose me, not the other way around.”

She grabbed him by the collar. “You’re lying! Fix this or I will kill you!”

Zelena closed her hand over the Quill in her pocket. She could guess who had left it in her cell - just as she could guess the reason she had survived Ingrid’s attempt to assassinate her - and if Hades was responsible, she knew she could not trust him.

It would be just like him to break her down to her lowest point and then present himself as her liberator; after all, that’s what she would have done. But between Regina, Rumple, and the Savior, she needed to make a decision quickly if she did not want to end up back in that cell. “How are you with enchanted manacles?” she asked Lily.

“What?”

Zelena extended her wrist, showing her Rumple’s manacle and Pan’s cuff underneath. “Free my magic, and I’ll help you.” 

“How?”

“I know where the Quill is.”

“Where?”

“Free me and I’ll tell you.”

Isaac looked at her pleadingly, certain she was lying, but just as certain that she could protect him from Lily’s wrath - if she cared to. Lily pushed him to the ground, rounding on Zelena with a fist glowing with magic. “Tell me, or I’ll kill you.”

“Kill me and you’ll never find it.”

“I’ll tell you where it is, lassie,” Malcolm said. “I don’t even want anything in exchange - from you.” 

“What do you want?”

“Same as you - a happy ending. That’s what the Author’s for, aye?”

“If you can get my Quill back, I’ll write you all happy endings,” the Author said, dusting himself off. “But just to warn you, I need ink too,” he told Lily.

“Right here,” she pulled a vial out of her pocket and handed it to him.

He uncorked the bottle and peered inside. “It will do.”

“Great. Now, where is the Quill?” she asked Malcolm.

He grinned enigmatically, sauntering over to Zelena. “Yes, lass, where is it?”

“You said you knew!” Lily said.

“And so I do.” Effortlessly quick, he snatched the Quill from Zelena’s pocket and twirled it between his fingers. “Now, where did you get this, I wonder?”

“Let me see it,” the Author said anxiously.

“We have a deal,” Malcolm said talking the Quill playfully, “Don’t forget that. Power and eternal youth; that’s my happy ending.”

“I know who you are, Peter Pan; don’t worry about that. My Quill, please.”

Grinning, Malcolm handed it over. “You promised all of us,” Zelena said. “I’m the one who brought the Quill here.”

“And lied about it,” Lily accused.

“I didn’t lie; I’d have told you, just like I said. Why should I give it to you for nothing?”

“Whatever, fine. Is it real?” she asked the Author, “Can you do it?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “All I need is a book.”

“Right here.” Lily summoned a large tome. It was bound in black leather, silver lettering spelling out the title: Heroes and Villains.

He looked at the title. “How did you know?” 

“I did my research.”

“Hm. So what is your happy ending?”

“I want the Savior’s darkness out of me, and to grow up with my mother. And… I want to belong somewhere.”

“I can do that. And you?” he asked Zelena.

“I want everything my sister was given. I want her true love and her happy ending.”

“OK, I can work with this. Come into the study; your happy endings begin now.”

XxXxXxX

Gold and Regina teleported to the hospital to look for clues. Emma directed Maleficent and Lily to get in her car while she called her parents, but Maleficent decided that taking them all straight there with magic would be faster.

“I’ll tell you what I told Gold,” Emma said, bracing against a wall, “Warn me before you do that, OK?”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret said. “… and Lily.”

“Aren’t you glad to see me?” Lily challenged.

“Your prisoners have escaped,” Maleficent said.

“Which prisoners?” David asked.

“Zelena, Malcolm, and Isaac,” Emma said. “Gold and Regina went to the hospital to see if they could find anything.”

“But the Quill is broken, right?” Henry asked. “The Author can’t re-write things.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, “But if Zelena got that cuff off, she could be a problem.”

“Cuff?” Maleficent asked.

“It blocks her magic; it’s how we’ve been able to hold her so far. If she got it off, we’re going to need something else. I’m going to call Belle to bring us Pandora’s Box.”

“Why would Zelena bust the Author out if he can’t do anything for her?” Lily asked. “You said he was kind of pathetic and useless.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he hitched a ride?” She made the call to Belle.

“Emma; did you stop Lily?” Belle asked.

“Yeah, that’s all good now, but we have a problem. Zelena, Malcolm, and Isaac escaped. Gold and Regina are at the hospital now, but I need you to bring me Pandora’s Box; if Zelena has her magic back, we need to take her out quickly.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll meet you at the Sheriff’s station.”

“Yeah. We’ve got this, Belle.”

“I know.”

“See you in a minute.”

“Bye, Emma.”

“So this Zelena is a badass, huh?” Lily asked.

“She can be,” Emma said.

“And you think she’s going to reverse time again, or something?”

“We don’t know what she’ll do, but it won’t be good. You want to help?”

She shrugged and idly scratched her arm. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Lily, what happened to your arm?” Maleficent asked. Lily pushed her sleeve up, revealing a half-healed scar. 

“I don’t know,” she said, honestly confused. “It’s not some kind of dragon thing?”

“No,” Maleficent said, concerned.

“Maybe I scratched it when I transformed or something; I don’t remember it.”

“Scratching yourself or transforming?” Maleficent asked.

“Transforming. That’s not normal?”

“No,” she said, concerned, “That shouldn’t happen.”

Emma’s phone rang. It was Belle. “Belle, did you get it?”

“I did, Emma, but I noticed something else.” Something bad, judging from her tone.

“What?”

“Rumple’s half of the Author’s Quill is gone.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Yes. This is where he keeps it, and it’s gone. How could they have taken it so quickly?”

“I don’t know. Unless they had some outside help.” _Like Hades._ “OK, you and Bae bring the Box to the Sheriff’s Station. I’ll call Regina; maybe they don’t have her half yet.”

“OK.” Emma heard her calling to Bae, and she hung up. She dialed.

“The Quill?” Henry asked, “They have the Quill?”

“Half of it. Hold on, Henry, we’ve got this.” She wasn’t sure. At least half of the Quill was gone, and someone had made Lily bleed. Emma’s stomach dropped as they all heard rumbling, and everything began to shake. 

“What-”

Everything - the loft, Henry, her phone - vanished. Instead, she was standing in the middle of a medieval village in a strange, gray dress, surrounding by unfamiliar faces staring at her. A pair of knights in black armor rushed over and threatened her with a pair of pikes. “Halt! Identify yourself!”

“My name is… Leia. And I’m afraid I have to go.” Gold had only been able to give her one lesson on teleporting, but she’d learned by now that her magic always came through right when she needed it. She reached for it and… nothing.

_Oh, no._

She took a step back.

“Halt, in the name of Queen Snow White!” the guard said.

“Queen Snow White?” That sounded promising.

She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

XxXxXxX

Henry woke up on the floor. The key to the Author’s door was in his hand. And everyone was gone. 

“Mom? Grandma? Grandpa?” He even tried, “Lily? Maleficent?” Even baby Graham was gone. He found his Book and flipped to the page with the door. It was still there. 

He ran outside. The streets were empty. The shops were empty. He tried to call Baelfire. It went to voicemail. He tried to call August, same thing. “What did they do?”

He went to the only place he knew that might have magical answers: the pawn shop. Everything was there… except the people. “Baelfire? Belle? Mr. Gold?”

They were gone. Zelena, Malcolm, and the Author had done something, and they were all gone. “Don’t panic,” Henry said. “You’re still here; you can fix this.” He remembered Baelfire telling him once that adventures weren’t as fun as they sounded; that once you’d been on a few, you’d wish you could go back to “boring”. He was starting to see what he had meant.

“No! You’ve got this! You can save them!”

But how? He looked at the Book again. The stories were still there; nothing had changed. He found that comforting, but it didn’t give him any clues on what to do next, either. He went to the Sorcerer’s mansion and didn’t find anything. There was no clue anywhere in town.

“So I have to leave town.”

Bae had also told him how important supplies were to a journey. He went to the loft and packed a bag of clothes and a bag of food. After avoiding them for years, Emma had started buying red apples recently. Along with the granola bars, peanut butter, and bread, he took the entire bowl of apples.

But what he really needed was money. Hoping their family connection would earn him some leeway, he went back to the pawn shop and emptied the register. He loaded everything into Mary Margaret’s car, and hoped his one driving lesson with David months ago would be enough to get him where he needed to go.

He made it to the next town over without hitting anything, but his attempt at parking… wasn’t great. Granny’s was the center of Storybrooke, so it stood to reason that this town’s diner was the place to go. He showed the waitress pictures from the library open house, asking if she’s seen anyone from Storybrooke, but she didn’t recognize them. Then she excused herself and made the mistake of calling the cops where he could overhear.

“I think he’s a runaway…”

He took a step back, turning to run, when he saw a rack of books. Heroes and Villains, a fantasy best seller according to the cover. Written by Isaac Heller. Isaac? If this book had existed yesterday, Belle would have told him about it; she loved sharing new releases. He turned the book over, and the Author was staring out at him from the back cover.

_About the Author: Isacc Heller lives in New York…_

New York.

There was no way he was getting Mary Margaret’s car to New York, but he had over a thousand dollars in cash and a smartphone. He ran back to the car and looked up the nearest bus station.

XxXxXxX

Isaac still couldn’t quite believe that he’d gotten away with it. If Regina hadn’t tipped him off about the Sorcerer and the Apprentice setting her up to free him, he might not have risked it. They didn’t really have a sense of humor about an Author breaking the rules, but for some reason, they seemed to want this to happen. So they could get a new Author? Maybe. He didn’t care.

He hadn’t quite been prepared for how annoying book signings and press junkets could be. _The price of fame…_

His latest fan handed him a homemade pin-back button as she gushed over his characterization of Regina. It wasn’t the first piece of “fan art” he had received, and he’d learned to smile and nod and accept them graciously, even when they were insultingly amateurish and cheap.

“…Her life is just so unfair. Is she going to get a happy ending in the sequel? Please, you have to tell me.”

“Sure, I can tell you.” He beckoned her closer. She leaned down. “She… Sorry, no spoilers. You’ll have to buy the next book when it’s finished.”

She laughed. “Alright.”

Isaac smiled and put the button in his bag to toss later. When he looked up, a large book was on the table, open to a very familiar drawing of a door. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. 

The Savior’s kid leaned over the table and begged, “What did you do with my family? Where are they?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You’re lying.” He pulled out the key. “You know what this does. So either you give me some answers, or I open this door again and you get a whole new ending.”

“Fine. Meet me in the back.”

The kid nodded, taking the Book and the key, and Isaac made his excuses. It was difficult, and when he could finally get away, he marched into the back room and said, “OK. Much to the chagrin of my publicist, you have my undivided attention.”

“Where’s my family?”

“You really want to know? Look around you.” He gestured to the boxes of books. “They’re all right there. In my best selling book.”

“What does that mean? Are they still alive?” He’d pulled the page with the door out of the book, and brandished it, holding the key way too close to the page.

“Tut, tut, tut. Easy with the key, cowboy. Your family is fine. If you want to get technical…” he opened his bag and pulled out the Book Lily had conjured for him. “They’re in here. See? The original copy of my book, the one I always wanted to write. They all live in here now in a kind of alternative reality-”

“You made them miserable,” he accused.

“I see you’ve read some of my book. Good. Good. Then you know that everyone got the ending they deserve. Except Emma, of course. You won’t find her in the book. There was no room of a Savior in my world.”

“Bring them back, or I use this!” he threatened, wielding the page again.

He held up his hands. “I can’t. I don’t have the power. The cardinal rule of the Authors is: don’t write your own happy ending. As you can see,” he shrugged, “I broke that rule. So this,” he pulled out the Quill, “It’s just a pen now. And me? I’m nothing more than a best selling writer with legions of fans and a penthouse over Central Park.”

“If you can’t get them out, then give me the Book and I will!” He grabbed it, and Isaac lunged and took it back.

“You?” He laughed. “Do you know why you’re still out here, kid? Because you’re not from a magical world. So take it from me, you’ll never be a knight in shining armor. You’re just a poor, innocent child that needs saving. So, why don’t you put the key away and stick to the role you’re best at?”

Isaac turned to walk away, and the little shit actually took that as an invitation to tackle him. But instead of incapacitating Isaac like an adult would have done, he just grabbed the Book from where it has fallen and started flipping through it. “Now what?” Isaac asked, “You’re going to tear up the Book?” He was doing something with the key. “Wait, don’t be stupid!” _That little idiot!_ The kid actually took the key, shoved it into a random page, and turned.

Tendrils of magic shot out of the book and dragged him in. Isaac turned to run, but he was standing too close; a moment later, he was dragged in too.

_Damn it!_

He landed hard, ruining the pants of his suit. He looked around at a village he knew - a deserted village. _The last chapter. The ogre. Shit._ A shield lay abandoned on the ground next to him, and he picked it up. The kid had found a sword and was staring at it like a moron. He swung it around. “Cool.”

Isaac dragged the shield over. “Feel like a hero now?” he asked. “Don’t get used to it.” He swung the shield up and clobbered him. The kid crumpled like a ball of paper. “Idiot.”


	37. Henry the Ogre Slayer

When Henry came to, he was tied to some kind of cart. “So now we’re both trapped in the Book,” the Author said. “Congratulations. Let me tell you about this place. It’s cold, there’s no running water, and things here are always trying to kill you.”

“Let me go!” He tugged at the ropes, but they were strong, and Isaac had tied them well.

“Not a chance. This book we’re in, it’s worked out quite nicely for me. I don’t need you running around changing things. This is _my_ story, and no hero gets a happy ending.”

“Why? Would that somehow destroy the Book?” His expression gave it away. “That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve brought us into the final chapter.”

“How do you know?”

“I know because I wrote it,” he said, arrogantly. “And I know how it ends: with the loud tolling of bells at sunset. When you hear that sound, it will mean we’ve reached the last page. The Book will end, and everything will remain exactly how I wrote it.”

Something roared, and Henry heard a series of loud thuds. He looked up. The monster was huge. It sniffed, swinging to the left and right like a bloodhound as it slowly stomped towards them. “There we are,” the Author said, “Right on time.”

“What is that?”

“Oh, the inciting incident of this chapter,” he said, grinning, “An ogre attack.” He stepped back. “And you know what they say: you don’t have to be faster than the ogre, you just have to be father than the next guy.”

“Wait!”

The ogre roared, and the Author ran. Henry could smell it now. Like garbage and rotting meat. THUD. THUD. It towered over him and sniffed again, pinpointing the cart. Henry didn’t dare scream. It raised a giant clawed hand, swiping towards Henry and roaring in his face.

“HELP! HELP ME!”

Henry flinched away, pressing himself against the back of the cart. _I’m going to die._ He’d always thought he’d be the kind of hero that looked death in the face, saying something brave as the monster bared down on him, but all he could do was screw his eyes shut and wish he could have seen his moms one more time. He’d failed. They were stuck in this Book, and now no one would be coming the save them.

And then he heard music.

_What?_

The ogre had stopped moving. The sound of some kind of flute got louder and louder, and the ogre slowly pulled back, arms hanging down limply. And then it started to dance.

“What the hell?”

THUD. THU-THUD. THU-THUD. It did some kind of weird, shuffling tap-dance, thankfully moving further away with every step. THU-THUD. THU-THUD. THUD. THU-THUD. It kept dancing as it left, and Henry watched in amazement as it slowly disappeared behind the trees.

“What is going on?” Henry asked the world at large. 

The music stopped. “I could ask you that.” He looked to the right and saw a boy about Baelfire’s age lounging in a tree. He was dressed in green, holding a set of panpipes. “You look like you’re in a bit of a pickle there. What’s you’re name?”

“H-Henry.”

“H-Henry?” he teased. He jumped down from the tree. “Well, H-Henry, I’m Peter.”

“Peter Pan,” Henry said. _Of course. Malcolm’s happy ending._

“You’ve heard of me?” he asked, flattered.

“Yeah. You’re, uh, really famous where I’m from.”

“Yeah? And where’s that, H-Henry?”

“It’s just Henry.”

He laughed. “You’re H-Henry from Just Henry? That sounds like a funny place.”

“No, I mean, my name is just Henry. I’m from Storybrooke.”

“Just Henry from Storybrooke? That still sounds like a funny place. Do you like games, Just Henry?”

“No. I mean, yes, I do like games, but my name is Henry. No H-, no ‘just’. Henry. All by itself.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “So you don’t like games,” he said, put upon. “Maybe the ogre likes games. Should I call him back?” He lifted the flute towards his lips.

“No!” a woman cried, bursting out from one of the huts. Slowly, others followed her. “Piper, please! We like games!”

“You do?”

“Yes!”

“Wonderful! Let’s play a game! If I untie you, will you play?” he asked Henry.

“What kind of game?”

“Hm, let me think… What do you want to be when you grow up, Just Henry from Storybrooke?” He had a weird glint in his eye, and Henry knew it was probably a trap. He tried for flattery.

“I want to protect people from ogres, like you do.”

“Like me? Oh, we can’t have that; two Pipers is one too many.” He looked around, spotting the sword Henry had picked up earlier. “I have it!” He stashed his pipes and grabbed the sword, pointing it at Henry playfully. “A knight! Sir Henry of Storybrooke, the Ogre Slayer!”

The villagers clapped, “Yes!” the first woman said. Her smile was so fake Henry didn’t know how Pan couldn’t spot it. “This will be a wonderful game!”

With two precise hacks, Pan cut the ropes tying Henry to the cart. He stumbled forward. “Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome Sir Henry! But where is your sword?”

“Uh, aren’t you holding it?”

“What? Have you gone blind, Sir Henry? This is my sword. Perhaps the blackguard that tied you up stole yours. Isn’t that so, Sir Henry?” Pan lowered the tip of the blade so it was pointing right at Henry’s eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, “That’s what happened.”

Grinning, Pan flicked the sword up and declared, “Villagers! Sir Henry of Storybrooke requires your help! A sword! A sword for the Ogre slayer!”

The scrambled. They were terrified of Pan. “It’s fine,” Henry said. “I don’t need a sword.”

Pan laughed. “No sword? Then how will you slay the ogres?”

“Really, it’s-”

“I have a sword!” an old man said. Henry didn’t know a lot about sword maintenance, but he could see the sword was old and well used but had also been polished to a shine. He offered the hilt to Henry reluctantly.

“I don’t-”

“That’s not a sword for Sir Henry!” Pan said, knocking it out of the man’s hand. “We need something mightier, something like…” He slid his own sword into his belt and sauntered over to a cauldron suspended over a dying fire. He pulled out the ladle, banging it against the side of the pot to shake off what looked like some kind of stew. “This!” he declared, holding the ladle aloft. “This shall be Sir Henry’s sword!”

Henry looked at Pan’s sword. He could guess where this was going. “Uh, how about a steed?” he asked.

“A steed?”

“A knight needs a noble steed, right?”

He’d actually convinced his Mom to let him get in the saddle a couple of times (she’d initially agreed with David’s plan to make him learn all the horse care first, but Henry had successfully pointed out that with the number of interruptions that seemed to happen, he might never learn to ride if they kept to David’s timetable). If he could convince Pan to let him have a horse, he might have a chance.

“You’re right!” Pan said. “A steed! A steed for Sir Henry of Storybrooke!”

The villagers looked at one another. Henry realized that none of them probably wanted to give up their horses. _Crap._ “Uh…”

“I have a steed!” an old woman said. “Just the one for Sir Henry.”

“Excellent! Bring him forth!” Pan said.

“Just a moment, Piper, begging your pardon. He’s stubborn. Just a moment!” She ran off.

“Perfect! While we wait, let’s all sing a song!” He pulled out his pipes, and the crowd pulled back. He blew a single note, then began to sing.

_“Today Sir Henry rides! Sir Henry! Sir Henry!  
To slay the mighty ogres! Sir Henry! Sir Henry!” _

“Come one, everyone! Sing!” he barked at the nervous villagers.

The first woman who had spoken flinched but repeated the first two lines of Pan’s song. He grinned in satisfaction then added a new verse while the peasants stumbled along, trying to join in without knowing the words,

_“Today Sir Henry is brave! Sir Henry! Sir Henry!  
The beasts will surely fall! Sir Henry! Sir Henry!” _

A donkey brayed. “Come on, you stupid beast!” the old woman scolded. “Go!” Henry heard a WHACK and the animal brayed again, bolting towards them.

“Perfect!” Pan declared, casually grabbing the rope around the donkey’s neck and stopping it with a hard tug. “The perfect steed for Sir Henry!”

The donkey was tall and black, with blue eyes ( _aren’t donkeys’ eyes supposed to be brown?_ ), and Henry could immediately see that the old woman hadn’t been kind to it. It lowered its head and tried to back away from Pan, but Pan just lifted his pipes to his lips. He didn’t even have to play a note before it froze, its long ears laid back in fear. “Well, Sir Henry?” Pan asked. “Will you mount your mighty steed?” The villagers laughed nervously.

Henry knew it wasn’t a request. “Hey, boy,” he said to the donkey. He walked up to it slowly from the front like Mom and David had taught him to. He knew it was a bad sign that it had laid its ears back like that, and he tried to calm it down before Pan got impatient and blew his pipe. “Hey. I’m not going to hurt you, OK? It’s just… this is just a game. A little fun, right? Everything will be fine.” It eyed him, and he wondered how smart it was; it looked like it understood what he was saying. He reached out carefully to let it sniff him, and it just looked at him. “OK, um. Can I get on your back? Would that be OK with you?”

“Just get on, lad!” the old woman said, and the donkey looked at her, afraid. “The Piper’s waiting!”

“Time to ride, Sir Henry!” Pan said. He lifted the pipes to his lips again.

“I’m doing it; just hold on.” The donkey looked at him and lowered his head submissively. Henry took that as permission and tried to mount him. Without stirrups, it didn’t go well.

Pan laughed uproariously when Henry fell in the dirt. Reluctantly, the villagers joined in. The donkey took a step back and looked at him curiously. “OK, let’s try that again.” Henry pushed himself to his feet. He tried to leverage himself up again, but he just wasn’t tall enough. “Uh, little help here?” he asked the villagers.

The first woman rushed forward and offered her cupped hands. “My lord,” she said, and Pan seemed to find that very funny.

“Thank you.” This time, he was able to get on the donkey’s back, but without a bridle, he didn’t know how to direct it. He grabbed the hanging length of rope instead so it wouldn’t tangle around its legs. “So now what?” Henry asked Pan.

“First, you take up your sword,” he handed him the ladle. “And then you ride!” 

“OK, uh-”

Pan drew his own sword and, before Henry could react, slapped the donkey hard on the buttock with the flat of the blade. It brayed, and Henry dropped the ladle and wrapped his arms around its neck as it bolted into the woods.

“Ride, Sir Henry of Storybrooke!” Pan shouted after them, and Henry heard him and the villagers laughing as trees and brush whipped by.

“Stop! Stop, please!”

They couldn’t hear Pan anymore by the time the donkey finally slowed down, and Henry had been trying so hard not to fall off that he didn’t realize until they were almost stopped. He pushed himself up - it was hard, his arms were shaking so much - and the donkey looked back at him. It had stopped now. It woofed at him.

“You… you want me to get off?” Henry wanted to get off. It pawed at the ground, and he took that as a “yes”.

His legs were like noodles, and he almost fell on his butt when he slid off. “Oof!” The donkey immediately started walking away. “Wait!” It looked at him. “You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?” It grunted and picked up speed. Henry ran after it. “Wait! Wait, I can help you!”

Something was pricking at his brain. _A smart donkey… black… blue eyes..._ “August, wait!” He didn’t stop. _He doesn’t remember._ “Pinocchio!”

He stopped. Henry caught up, panting, “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Au- Pinocchio, and you got turned into a donkey on Pleasure Island.” August eyed him then started walking again. “Wait! I know how to fix this! If you’ll help me, you’ll turn back into a human!”

This time, he stopped. Henry had never thought that a donkey could look both suspicious and hopeful - and maybe it was just his imagination - but that’s what he saw. “I can help you,” he said again, patting down his jacket. He still had it - _thank God._ He pulled out the copy of Isaac’s book that he’d taken from the diner and showed it to August. “See this? This book is… magical. It tells me how to fix it. You’re not supposed to be like this. You’re supposed to be in Storybrooke with the rest of us.” August cocked his head to the side then walked up to sniff at the book. “See? It’s not like the books from here. It still has that new book smell.” August blinked at the book and tried to grab it in his teeth. 

“Hey!” Henry snatched the book away. August took a step back and gave him a hangdog look. “Why would you do that?” Henry asked. August took another step backwards. “You don’t know, do you?” August shook his head, his long ears flapping. Henry almost smiled. “I do. Isaac re-wrote your story so that you never grew up; you never learned how to control yourself. It’s OK. All we have to do is change the ending, and everything will go back the way it’s supposed to be. You’ll be with your father again.”

Henry would never look at horses the same away again. August’s eyes were so _sad._ “Come on. All we have to do it find my mom.” He opened the book to the last chapter. “OK, so… ogre attack… Pan saves the village… big party… new scene. ‘Many forest traps were set to protect the forest hideaway.’ This sounds promising,” he told August. “‘A pit trap under the cedar tree, a fallen log hung just beyond, and finally, at the center of the willow forest, there was a rustic version of… home.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where that is, would you?” he asked August. “We’re looking for Regina.” August snorted and shook his head. “OK. We’ll pick a direction, then. She’ll probably want to be away from any of the villages, so we go… this way.” He started walking. August grabbed the back of his jacket with his teeth. “Hey! Stop that.” August snorted and stomped his foot. “What?” August jerked his head to the right and started walking. “Where are you going?” Henry asked. “You said you didn’t know where she was!”

He brayed. “So you do know where she is?” He shook his head, but Henry could see that guilty look again. “You know where she is, don’t you?” Another headshake, and Henry didn’t believe this one either. “You’re lying. Why don’t you want me to find her? I told you: that’s the only way to turn you human again, to find you father. I know you want to be with him again.” Puppy eyes, and he even glanced in the direction Henry had wanted to go. “She’s this way, isn’t she?” More puppy eyes. 

“Look, you don’t have to come, OK? I can find her myself.” Henry turned to go. “Wait.” He’d almost forgotten the rope. He pulled it over August’s head and dropped it on the ground. “There. I wish you’d come, but I’m not going to make you.” 

He was laying it on a bit thick at this point, but he’d apologize for the guilt trip later, once they were back in Storybrooke. Knowing August, he’d clap him on the back and say, “Good job, Henry, you got me.”

Henry tried his own puppy eyes. August looked away. “Well, OK… Thanks. I’ll see you around.”

He made it about a hundred feet before he heard August following him. _Gotcha._

XxXxXxX

“Please be dead, please be dead…” Isaac prayed. But he heard music; the villagers were having a party. “Shit!”

He’d forgotten about the Piper. He ducked behind a tree, watching as the Piper made the villagers dance. 

_“Sir Henry slayed the ogres! Sir Henry! Sir Henry!  
And rode off on his mighty steed! Sir Henry! Sir Henry!” _

_Sir Henry?_ That hadn’t been in his book. “What did you change, kid?” he muttered. Not quietly enough, apparently.

“A new reveler!” Pan said. He vanished from where he stood, appearing directly behind Isaac.

(Very understandably) Isaac jumped. “Don’t do that!”

Pan grinned obnoxiously. “A stranger. With strange clothes. Tell me, stranger, do you like to play games?” 

“N- wait. Yes, yes I do.”

“Excellent! What games do you like to play, stranger?”

“How about… snipe hunt? And I know just the snipe.”

“Oh! That sounds like a fun game. Where can we find this snipe?”

“You’ve already met him. His name is Henry.”

“Sir Henry?”

“Yeah. Is he here?”

“Of course not! Sir Henry rode off on his mighty steed. Isn’t that right, everyone?” The exhausted villagers nodded wearily, staggering on sore legs. 

“His steed?”

“The bravest donkey in all the land!” He laughed, and a smattering of forced laughs form the villagers joined him. “I’m bored,” Pan said conversationally, and Isaac knew just how dangerous a statement that was.

“Then play my game,” he offered cheerfully. “No donkey could outrun you, could it?”

“Chasing a donkey doesn’t sound like very much fun,” Pan said. “You promised me a snipe.”

“Henry is the snipe.”

“Then snipes are boring.”

“Not boring! Henry is dangerous! He can destroy this entire world! If you don’t stop him, he’ll ruin everything!”

Pan tilted his head. “You’re scared of him.”

“Yes!”

“That only means one thing, then. You’re a codfish!” Suddenly, Pan had a blade at his throat. “Maybe you’re a pirate. What’s your name, pirate?”

“I’m not a pirate!”

“You dress funny, like a pirate. And you’re yellow-bellied like a pirate-”

“I am not a pirate!”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m a… I’m a wizard!”

“A wizard?” he asked skeptically but took a half step back. “You don’t look like a wizard.”

“But I am! I can tell the future!”

“You can?” he asked, suddenly friendly. “What fun! Tell me my future.”

“Your future is…” Unfortunately, Pan’s future wasn’t terribly interesting. He was supposed to fall asleep in a tree tonight, content with his fun-filled life as the Piper. He was a force of chaos in Isaac’s books, an immortal id that never grew up or changed. “Your future is… to always be a boy and have fun!” he said cheerfully. Pan looked at him, pure petulant teenager, and lifted his sword again. 

“Wait. Wait! In the future you will…” he didn’t know if it counted if the sequel hadn’t been written yet, but then it hardly mattered if he managed to catch Henry and get the key back. “You will slay the evil pirate Blackbeard! Everyone will love you for it!”

“Oh. That sounds like a fun game.”

“It is!”

Pan grinned. “I think I’ll do it now!”

“No, wait!” 

Pan leapt into the air, hovering for a moment to salute Isaac with his sword. “Thank you, kind wizard!”

“Wait!”

“Bangarang!” 

“Damn it!” Isaac swore as Pan few off. “What are you looking at?” he snapped at the gawping villagers.

“Thank you,” a middle-aged woman said.

“You’re welcome,” Isaac said flatly, pushing himself away from the tree. “I don’t suppose any of you know where the kid with the donkey went?”

They pointed. “That way,” the woman said. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, turning to go.

“Wait! Won’t you take some bread for your journey?”

He was actually pretty hungry. “Yeah. Sure. Just make it quick; I’ve got to go catch the little shit.”

She scrambled while the villagers dispersed into their huts. She returned with a loaf of bread. “With our blessings, sir wizard,” she said.

“Thanks.” He took it and charged into the woods.

The bread was stale. He nearly broke a tooth on it when he tried to take a bite and stumbled directly into a net trap. “Shit!” 

He pulled on the ropes, looking around for his captor. They stepped out from behind the trees, seven small, bearded men in black. One of them gave him a truly evil grin.

“Oh, no. Not these guys.”


	38. Dark Mirror

They found his mom’s camp, the entrance to her house hidden inside a giant, hollow log. And they found his mom. Like August, she didn’t remember anything. Unlike August, she didn’t believe Henry could help her. Henry showed her Isaac’s book, and when it correctly predicted that she panned to rob the royal carriage today, she wasn’t impressed. Instead, she tossed the book into the fire. 

“Don’t!” 

It burst into flames, and Henry was only able to save a single page before running after her. She stormed past August, who looked at her curiously. Henry ran to catch up. 

“Stop following me!” she said. “You and your weird donkey!”

August snorted. “His name is Au- Pinocchio. And you’re friends,” Henry said.

“I’m friends with a donkey?” she asked skeptically.

“He’s not really a donkey. He’s a human. I mean, he was a puppet and now he’s a human. As long as he follows the rules.”

August looked at him confused, and Mom put her hand on her hips. “You’re not making any sense,” she said.

Henry sighed. “It’s complicated. But you are friends. When you thought you’d lost your True Love, he took you to the Rabbit Hole so you wouldn’t be alone.”

“He took me to a rabbit hole?” And now she really was looking at him like he was crazy. _It’s like Emma all over again._

“The Rabbit Hole is a bar - a tavern.”

“Huh. I could use a friend like that. But I don’t think a donkey is going to fit the bill.” August snorted at her.

“I told you, he’s not a donkey there!” Henry said, “Look, OK, I can prove it-”

“How? Another magic book?”

“We just have to find Robin Hood. He’s your True Love. If you kiss him, it will break this spell; True Love’s Kiss can fix anything.”

She laughed. “Wow. You _are_ crazy. If I ever meet Robin Hood in person, the only thing get gets from me is a broken nose.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t your magic book tell you?”

“I… didn’t get that far in it. Whatever it is, we can fix it!”

“Fix it? He’s my competition, kid! Every robbery I plan, he beats me to it. He’s the reason I’m stuck in this kingdom!” She started walking. “Why am I still talking to you?”

“Because I’m your son,” Henry said.

She turned around again. “Listen, kid. I don’t know how far you got in that book, or if you’re just crazy or what, but I’ve got to go. The Queen wants me dead.” August nodded vigorously. “See? Even the donkey knows! She thinks I ruined her life.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. So… if it’s happy endings you’re after, stick with your donkey friend. I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

She started running. Henry looked at August. If August could talk, Henry thought he would be asking, “What now?” Or maybe it was, “What did you expect?” Henry decided to answer the first question.

“Now she knows who he is,” Henry said. “If he really does interrupt every robbery, he’ll be there when she goes to rob Show White’s carriage today, and they’ll fall in love. That’s what happened to my Grandma S- Mary Margaret and her prince. Isaac gave my Mom my grandma’s story, so it should work out the same.” August tilted hid head like he didn’t believe it. “I bet you know what tavern Robin Hood goes to after his robberies. Take me there. If I’m right, she’ll be there too.” Reluctantly, August started walking.

After a while in the rough terrain, Henry asked, “I don’t suppose you’d let me ride you the rest of the way?” August picked up speed. “I was kidding!” Henry called after him, “I didn’t mean that!”

XxXxXxX

Isaac was damn good, if he did say so himself. He’d gone from imminent execution to striking a deal with Snow White (and she was just like he had written her - completely evil). She would lay in wait for Regina when she attempted to rob her carriage, and in exchange for that information, she had agreed to kill not only Regina, but Henry.

She would try, anyway. This was Isaac’s story, and Show White would never be able to kill Regina in his universe. Robin Hood would be there, and he would rescue her, fuelling enough unresolved sexual tension for an entire series of books.

Of course, if Snow White wasn’t able to kill Regina, she might not be able to take care of Henry either, so Isaac needed to call in the big guns.

It was a little tricky to get out of the palace. In addition to the dwarves (who were kind of dim), Snow White had the old werewolf and her Black Archer (who were not). 

“Halt!” The Archer said. Isaac grit his teeth and tried to smile as he turned around. Unsurprisingly, he had an enchanted arrow pointed directly at his heart. _I should have written you as a stable boy._

“I’m on a secret mission for the Queen,” Isaac said.

“Oh? I don’t recall her giving you any orders.”

“She’s a sorceress. She doesn’t have to speak a word to give me orders.”

The Archer’s dead eyes were exactly as Isaac has written them, but he had to admit they were a little disconcerting up close. “She has never issued orders that way before,” he said.

“This is a top secret mission, and if you get in the way, she will be very angry with you.”

He didn’t seem bothered by the implications of that. “Or you are a liar,” he said boredly, “And she will be angry if you are allowed to escape.” _Why did I write him without fear?_

“If she was really worried about that, don’t you think I’d be in the dungeons already?” 

The Archer lowered the arrow slightly, but it was only for show. “Allow me to accompany you, then,” he said.

“Do you not get the ‘secret’ part of ‘secret mission’? I have to go alone. Queen’s orders.”

“Oh, for Hades’ sake, let him go,” one of the dwarves said. “Do you want to get us all killed?”

The Archer looked at the dwarf, who cringed. “Will you take responsibility for his escape if the Queen decides she would have rather kept him here?” the Archer asked.

“Better then being blamed for preventing this secret mission. Can’t you see he’s some kind of wizard?”

The Archer simple stared at the dwarf until he took a step back, and his brothers raised their axes. “Very well,” he finally said, retuning the arrow to his quiver. “Continue on your mission. And if you are lying, may the gods have mercy on you. Our Queen surely won’t.”

“Understood.” Isaac took measured steps until he was beyond the portcullis. Then he bolted. He was deep into the woods - and he thought his lungs might burst - before he finally stopped, collapsing on a log.

He gasped, gripping his messenger bad as he tried to slow his breathing. It would not be wise to show any weakness in front of this villain, but he thanked his own foresight in planning several books in advance. While she did not actually appear in his first book, he had included allusions to the existence of a far greater and more powerful force for evil than Snow White. After all, what kind of writer introduced the ultimate villain of a series without properly setting them up? That was just poor storytelling. 

He ran through the rules in his head. _Be respectful. Offer her knowledge. Never lie to her. And never, ever break a deal with her._ When his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, he stood up, adjusting his bag and smoothing his hair. _Ready._ He took a deep breath.

“Beauty, I summon thee!”

XxXxXxX

“There she is! Mom!”

He’d been afraid they would miss her. August had led them towards town, but then he had stopped on the outskirts to graze in a meadow. He’d ignored Henry when he’d said they had to go, snorting and half-heartedly kicking at him when he’d tried to grab his mane. Henry had finally said he would go check out the tavern alone and come back, but he’d only made it halfway there when August had found him, his big hooves clacking on the cobblestones.

His mom sighed loudly. “You have to stop calling me that,” she said. “How do you keep finding me anyway?”

“I knew if my plan worked that you and Robin would go to his usual tavern. August knew where it was.”

“Right. And how does a donkey know where Robin Hood goes after robberies?” They both looked at him. August woofed, obviously unable to tell them more than that.

“I’ll ask him when he can talk again. So, did you try to kiss him?”

She laughed sadly. “I hate to break it to you, but Robin’s already found his True Love. And they getting married…” She grabbed him and spun him around to look towards the tavern, “Today.” 

He saw Robin through the window, kissing Zelena. “No, no, no. This is all wrong. That’s Zelena, your sister!” He turned around, and she was gone. August nodded towards the main street. Henry ran in that direction.

“Wait! You have to listen to me!”

“I’ve heard enough,” she said, raising her hands to ward him off. “I don’t have a sister. My mother abandoned me when I was a baby.”

“No, your mother abandoned _Zelena._ Everything’s flipped. This must be Zelena’s happy ending.”

“Look, I have to go. And you should too; Snow White’s looking for you.” August brayed and looked around, afraid. “At least one of you has sense,” she said, trying to walk away.

“Wait! You can’t tell me you didn’t feel _anything_ when you met Robin Hood.” She looked down. “See? That’s proof. He’s your True Love.”

“No. It’s proof that I’m not the kind of person that gets a happy ending. I’ll never have a True Love,” she said sadly. “But you… you gave me the worst thing you can give anyone. Hope. Now, I’d like to get far enough away that I don’t have to hear Robin and Zelena’s wedding bells proclaim their love.”

“Wait… wedding bells?”

“Yes. Now, please let me be.”

“The bells - from the end of the Book. That’s what he was talking about. Those bells, this wedding, it’s our last chance to stop this from becoming real forever!”

“It already _is_ real.”

“Not yet. We have to stop this wedding.”

“Look, you seem like a nice boy. And clearly, you believe all this... nonsense. But didn’t you say I was your adopted mother? That you have another mother out there, named, uh… Emma?” Henry nodded. “So if you want help, maybe you should start by finding _her_.”

“I tried. She wasn’t in the book. And if she were, believe me, you’d know. She’s the most powerful sorceress there is.”

“The only sorceress in this land is Snow White,” Mom muttered.

“She’s more powerful than her. She, uh, has special magic.”

“Special magic?” she scoffed.

“In our world, she was called ‘the Savior’.”

August perked up. And Mom tried to walk away. “Never heard of her.”

“Mom, no. I know that face. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Why don’t you ask your donkey?” she said, “He obviously knows!” She touched her forehead. “I can’t believe I said that.”

“Mom!”

She sighed. “Fine. There were rumors once of a woman who called herself that: the Savior.”

“Isaac lied!” Henry said. “He couldn’t write her out of the story. Where can I find her?”

“You can’t. Snow White locked her up years ago.” Henry looked at August. He nodded, his eyes sorrowful. “No one has set eyes on her since. The prison she’s in is impenetrable.”

“Where is it?”

“The Bottomless Sea.” August woofed. “See? Even he knows it’s hopeless.”

“It’s not hopeless!”

She put her hands on his shoulders. “Then try,” she said earnestly, pulling out a battered map and handing it to him. He grinned. “Without me.” She left. August looked like he wanted to follow her, but he didn’t.

“It’s not hopeless,” Henry told him. “She had the map; that has to mean something. And I know who can get us there. We can call Rumplest- ow!” Henry rubbed his arm where August had bit him. “Why did you do that?!”

August brayed at him. “I don’t know what that means!” Henry shouted back. August stomped on the ground and shook his head, his ears flapping everywhere. “What are you trying to say?” August shook his head, less vigorous this time. “No? You’re saying no?” August nodded. “Why?” August snorted and stomped his foot again. “Right. Obviously, you can’t tell me. But you don’t want me to call Ru-” August brayed again - _loudly._ “Fine! Fine, I get it,” Henry rubbed his ringing ears. “We still need to get to the Bottomless Sea.” Henry glanced towards the dock. 

“It’s a sea… how about Captain Hook? Have you heard of him?” August shook his head. “Hook it is. And if this is a story where the heroes are villains and the villains are heroes, he’ll definitely want to help us. Or… he won’t try kill us, anyway. I think. Let’s go.”

August didn’t look that impressed, but he followed anyway.

XxXxXxX

She didn’t come. _Damn!_ “Beauty, I summon thee!” Isaac shouted. She still didn’t appear. “Oh, come on! She always hears the calls of the desperate! Am I not desperate enough? We’re talking about my entire world here! I promise, I’m desperate!”

“I know.”

He jumped. She was directly behind him. She giggled as he scrambled. “Beauty!” he said, trying to bow. “Uh, thank you! For seeing me.”

He knew his reimaging of the Beauty and her Beast had been a masterstroke. She was still delicate and petite, but she just oozed evil. Her studded, black traveling outfit lacked the majesty of the Queen’s, but that was the rub; she was the _real_ power in the Enchanted Forest, and she didn’t need all the jewels for the people to see it. When she killed Snow White in the second (or third?) book, it would be a sensation.

But that didn’t mean he enjoyed being close to her. She strutted up to him, somehow using her inferior height to make him feel small. “You wanted to make a deal?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

“Um, yeah. I need you to kill someone.”

“Do you now?” 

“Yes. I… I have knowledge to trade.”

She raised her eyebrows. He had her. “Do you?”

“Yes. I know the future.”

She laughed. “So do I.”

“Oh, right. Forgot that part.”

She trailed a sharp fingernail down his neck. “That’s all right. You could show me what your insides look like. I make a personal study of that. My pet likes to assist, but he does make a bit of a mess.”

Isaac stepped back. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

She matched her step with his. How could such a tiny woman be so intimidating? “Do you have anything else to offer? You called me here. I never leave a negotiation without some form of… compensation.”

“Yes! I have… I have knowledge of other worlds. Worlds you haven’t even heard of.”

Her gaze dragged up and down his body, taking in his modern clothes. “Do you?”

“Yes. I was born in a land called Long Island, in the country of America, on a planet called Earth. I can tell you all about it, if you’ll just kill one little boy.”

“A boy? Your child?”

“What? No!”

“You rival’s child, then?”

“No. He’s just a boy that getting involved in things he shouldn’t.”

“I see. What do you think, pet, should we kill this boy?”

Rumplestiltskin emerged from behind the trees. He didn’t say a word, only lowered his head submissively. In a brilliant reversal of the usual story, the Beauty has not restored his humanity; she had taken the dagger for herself, and systematically stripped away whatever humanity he had retained, leaving behind nothing but the Beast. She’d done a damn good job too. Isaac wasn’t even sure he had understood what she had just asked him, but he would carry out her orders without question. “Very good,” she purred, “Where can we find him?”

Isaac told them.

XxXxXxX

August balked as soon as they reached the gangplank. “Come on!” he said, “We don’t have a lot of time!” Although Henry had started to wonder about that. They had already traveled a long way, and it seemed like the sun hadn’t moved at all. If this were the real world, it would be impossible to take a sailing ship to a different sea and back again before the sun set, but he had noticed that time and distance didn’t make a lot of sense in Isaac’s book. Journeys that should take days or weeks seemed to take hours. He hoped that would work for him now.

August brayed. “It’s fine,” Henry said. “See?” He walked across the gangplank and onto the deck. “Come on!”

“Careful, boy,” a familiar pirate said. “No one steps aboard the Jolly Roger’s decks without an invitation from its Captain first.”

The only thing different about Hook seemed to be that he hadn’t called his ship a “she”. Henry smirked. “Are you going to make me walk the plank?” August brayed again. “That was a joke,” Henry said.

“I wouldn’t promise that,” Hook said. “Why are you here?” 

“We need to take a ship to the Bottomless Sea.”

“Now, those are treacherous waters. There must be something of great value there to be worth taking the risk.”

“Someone.” He handed Hook the map. “Her name is Emma. She’s my mom. And she was put there by the Queen.”

“Well, then, I’m sorry for you. Even if I wanted to, I can’t help you.”

“Why? You’re a captain. Can’t you take the ship wherever you want?”

A man laughed. “A captain? Move, wretch!” August brayed as a pirate in a red coat smacked him on the flank with the flat of his sword. Panicked, he ran across the gangplank onto the ship, cowering on the other side of the mast. The pirate strutted onto the desk, laughing. “Perhaps we’ve finally found a companion for you, Hook,” he said, “Even a deck hand needs a bit of shore leave. Now what’s this about you claiming to be a captain?”

“I-I didn’t. The lad just assumed.”

“Are you sure? You clearly haven’t been playing the part of deckhand, or my decks would be swabbed by now.”

Hook scurried to grab the bucket and a white stone. “I’m sorry, Captain Blackbeard.”

“Wait, he’s the captain?” Henry said.

“He’s not a captain! He’s a codfish!” someone called from above their heads. _Oh, no._

“The Piper,” Hook said, practically shaking. He hid behind the wheel.

Blackbeard drew his sword, and August backed away from the mast, staring up at Pan high in the rigging. “Prepare to meet your doom, Captain Codfish!” Pan said. He jumped off the yardarm, summersaulting twice before landing on the deck with a light thump. Blackbeard’s sword came down, and Pan swung his up, laughing as they dueled across the deck.

“We need to get out of here!” Hook whispered loudly to Henry. August was clearly thinking the same thing, but Pan and Blackbeard were between him and the exit.

“No,” Henry said. “We need to rescue Emma.” He found a sword and grabbed it, following the ropes with his eyes. Hoping he had the right one, he cut it, and a large hook on a pulley went swinging though the middle of the swordfight. 

“Good one, Sir Henry!” Pan cheered. Blackbeard took the opportunity to lunge at him, but Pan just jumped out of the way, slapping him playfully on the butt with the flat of his blade. “Tut tut, that’s bad form, Captain!” he said.

“It’s bad form to attack another without provocation,” Blackbeard said, “Unless someone has set you upon me. Was it you, Hook? Too much of a coward to fight your own battles?”

“No, Captain!” Hook said. He eyed the railing of the ship, ready to bolt.

“Don’t even think about it,” Henry said. “I need you.”

“If you need a lady rescued, the Piper will be more help than I,” Hook said. “Good luck!” He dove for the railing, but Henry got there first, blocking his way with the sword.

“No,” he said. “You’re Captain Hook. You’re the best pirate I know; you can do this.”

Hook shook his head, “I’m afraid you don’t know me very well at all, lad.”

“I’m still not letting you leave.”

Blackbeard grunted. “Well,” Pan said, “That was disappointing.”

He’d run him through. Henry slapped a hand over his mouth as Pan lowered his sword and let him fall to the deck in a pool of blood. “I’d have thought he would have put up a better fight than that.” He prodded the body with his foot, then looked up at Henry, grinning brightly. “Sir Henry! Well met!”

“Why did you kill him?” he asked.

“The wizard said I would, and I decided not to wait. I thought it would be fun.” He pouted, poking Blackboard with his sword like he should be ashamed for not getting up to fight more. Then he shrugged and said, “But now you’re here, Sir Henry, and with your mighty steed! We can have an adventure!”

“I’m not trying to have an adventure. I’m trying to save my mom.”

Pan leapt up, flying onto the upper deck next to them. “That can be an adventure! But what about this pirate?” he prodded Hook with his sword, who stumbled back, pressing himself against the rear of the ship.

“Stop!” Henry said. “I need him to sail the ship!”

“So we’re commandeering it then? Excellent! Raise the anchor! Drop the sail!”

“I… I can’t sail the ship alone,” Hook said. Even if Henry didn’t like him in the real world, this scared version of him was just sad. Henry very deliberately wasn’t thinking about the dead body on the deck. _He was a bad man. And this isn’t real, right? Once I fix this, everything will go back the way it was. He’ll be fine._

“We’ll help!” Pan declared.

“Just tell me what to do,” Henry told Hook.

“Us too!” Pan said.

“There are more of you?”

Pan whistled, and his Shadow detached itself from him and stood on the deck, mimicking his posture exactly. They both saluted. “Reporting for duty, Captain!”

“Oh, well…” Hook looked at Blackbeard and then at the gangplank.

“Don’t try it,” Henry said quietly. “You’ll never make it.” Pan grinned. Terrified, Hook nodded.

“R-raise the gangplank,” he said.

“Aye, aye, Captain!”


	39. Twisted and Broken

“Land ahoy!” Pan shouted from the crow’s nest.

Henry pulled out the telescope he’d found in in the Captain’s cabin (the body was gone - the Shadow had thrown it overboard). “We found it,” he said. 

“You’re certain?” Hook asked nervously.

“How many islands with creepy fortresses are in this ocean?” he asked.

“Fair point.”

Pen sent his Shadow to scout the place out, pouting when it returned and whispered in his ear. “Just one guard. Almost doesn’t seem worth the trip.”

“Did it see my mom?”

More whispers. “It says it saw a witch with golden hair.”

“That must be her!”

“Draw your swords, boys!” Pan said, “Today we rescue a witch!”

“I will stay with the ship,” Hook volunteered.

“Nay! It’s all or none!” Pan said.

“But… very well.” 

“Wait,” Henry said. “I have an idea. I know how we can get to her out without fighting.” Pan frowned, and he hurriedly explained, “The greatest pirate in my land is Captain Jack Sparrow. He sacked an entire port once without firing a single shot. It’s easy to win by fighting; it’s a much better game to win by being smart. Unless you don’t think you’re up to it…”

“Of course I’m up to it! No one is cleverer than me!”

“Great! So here is what you do…”

XxXxXxX

Emma couldn’t fight anymore. She’d been in this prison for years, chained up like an animal. She didn’t know how many times she had called for Rumplestiltskin, but he never came. Based on what she’d heard, that was probably lucky. She’d heard rumors about the Pied Piper and eventually decided to take the risk and call on him; he didn’t answer either. She didn’t know if this prison was Isaac’s plan, Pan’s, Zelena’s, or all of theirs, but it was inescapable. She only had one feeble hope left, and she didn’t dare let herself think about it.

The door opened. It wasn’t time yet for Lily to arrive with her meal. Emma looked up. _Have I finally lost it?_ “Hi, my name is-”

“Henry.” 

“Mom?”

She staggered to her feet. “Henry…”

“You… you remember.”

She sobbed or laughed; she wasn’t sure which. “I knew you’d find me.” They hugged, and for the first time in this place, it felt _real._

When Henry pulled back, he had the keys in his hands, and he reached for her manacles. “I don’t understand. How do you remember when no one else does?” he asked.

“It must have been part of the plan. My punishment in this world is that I know the truth, but I’m powerless to do anything about it. I’m not the Savior here; I’ve got no magic.”

“That’s all right. If we need some… I’ve got a guy. Just play along.”

“You’ve ‘got a guy’? What do you mean?”

Henry grimaced. “Pan. The Piper. He’s helping us because he thinks it’s a game. We’re almost there; we just have to stop the wedding before sunset. If he keeps helping us, it will be no sweat.”

“But if he doesn’t, we’re in trouble.”

“Yeah. So you have to play along. Please?”

Emma saw something in Henry’s face she hadn’t seen since… since Graham had died. Doubt. She cupped the side of his face. “We’ve got this, kid. Yeah, I’ll play along.”

He grinned. “Great. Let’s go.”

Hook and Pan were waiting at the foot of the stairs. Emma didn’t see any resemblance between the light-haired Pan and the dark-haired Malcolm. Apparently, his age wasn’t the only think he liked to deny about himself. “Milady,” he said, bowing mockingly.

“Hi. Uh, thank you for rescuing me.”

“It wasn’t hard. I’m very clever, you know.” OK, she could see the resemblance now.

“I do.” He beamed. “But I hear we have a wedding to crash, so we’d better go.” 

“Race you to the ship!”

They ran through the corridors, but after being chained in a tower for years, Emma’s legs couldn’t keep up with Pan. Hook noticed first, frowning in concern and slowing down to help her. “Thanks,” she said, panting.

“It’s no trouble.” She wondered what his story was here. At the very least, she doubted it was a happy one.

Pan reached the door first, throwing it open and launching himself into the air. “Well, that just seems like cheating,” Emma muttered.

Hook pulled her up short. “Don’t say that within his hearing,” he hissed. “I’ve already seen him kill once today.”

She saw Henry look away. “Henry?”

“Blackbeard,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. None of this is real, as long as we stop the wedding.”

“Then let’s go.” 

Despite it all, the fresh air made her giddy, and she was laughing as they stumbled onto the deck. “I win!” Pan crowed, hanging playfully off the rigging.

“You did,” Emma said, “We should… what’s with the donkey?” It blinked at her, trying to hide behind the mast.

“Why, he’s Sir Henry’s steed!” Pan said.

“Your steed?” she asked.

“It’s August,” Henry whispered into her ear. “He doesn’t remember either.”

“Oh.” Emma didn’t have to be an expert with donkeys to see he was terrified and had been abused. _Damn you, Isaac._ She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, August.” He looked at her oddly. “I mean… Pinocchio.” He took a cautious step forward and sniffed at her hand. Emma smiled sadly 

They both jumped when Pan cried, “Raise the sail! Let free the anchor!”

Emma said, “Uh, I think you have that back-” 

“Don’t correct him,” Hook interrupted, then shouted, “Aye, aye!” He directed Henry, Pan, and Pan’s Shadow (Emma shuddered when it flew by her), on what to do. Emma tried to help with the anchor, but Pan got in the way.

“No girls allowed!” he said.

“We’re in a hurry,” she insisted.

“Girls don’t work on the ship,” he said. “They sing for us and dance.” He pulled out a set of pipes, smirking and eyeing her knowingly. _Play along. Right._

“Tell me, how did you get past the black knight?” Emma asked demurely, “It must have been quite a battle.”

“Not a battle!” Pan said, flourishing his pipes in the air. “I am far too clever for that! We tricked him,” he said conspiratorially.

“How?”

“I posed as a prisoner, and Hook as a guard. When the knight led us to the cell, whoosh! I blew a gust of night root powder right in his face! He fell asleep right then and there, and we locked him in the cell!”

“How long does night root last?”

Pan shrugged. “Long enough. Now, it’s time for you to sing-”

“You don’t understand, when Lily wakes up-”

CRASH!

August brayed. Hook yelled, “What was that?!” 

“Look!” Henry pointed. Lily was already in the air, shaking off the dust of broken stones. 

“It’s Lily! Get below!” Emma shouted.

“A dragon!” Pan said gleefully. “What fun!”

“Load the cannon with a chain shot!” Emma ordered Hook.

“No!” Pan said. “That’s not the game!”

“This isn’t a game!”

He smiled and put the pipes to his lips. “Everything is a game.”

He played.

Emma tried to fight it, but within moments she was dancing across the deck, while Lily frolicked in the air with Pan and his Shadow. _Stop! Stop this!_ “Pan!” Henry shouted, “Peter! Time out! I call a time out!” Pan swopped down in front of him, still playing. “Please,” Henry begged.

“Perhaps-” Hook began, shutting up and ducking his head when and Pan looked at him.

“You want a time out?” Pan asked teasingly. The moment the music stopped, Emma stumbled, falling to her knees.

“Yes!” Henry said. Lily wobbled in the sky.

“Are you su-?” Pan made a teasing gesture with his pipes, shouting when August snatched them out of his hands with his teeth, “Hey! Give those back!”

August dropped them, and Pan lunged, but not fast enough to stop a donkey hoof from smashing them against the deck. “No! What have you done!?”

Lily roared, rounding in on them. Pan grinned and then sneered. “Fine, then! I don’t want to play anymore. Have fun with the dragon!” He and his Shadow took off. 

“The cannon!” Emma said, scrambling to her feet.

“I don’t think we need it,” Henry said, pointing. “Look.”

Lily was ignoring the ship to go after Pan. Emma laughed, a bit hysterically she could admit. Perhaps they really could fix this. The wind picked up, and the ship surged under them. August brayed, spreading his legs wide to keep his balance. Emma laughed again and stumbled over to him, “Good job,” she said, patting him on the neck.

“Yeah!” Henry agreed. “Now we just have to stop the wedding. We’ll be back before sunset, right?” he asked Hook.

“Aye, lad,” Hook said, still watching Lily and Pan as they disappeared over the horizon. “As long as the Piper doesn’t come back for us.”

“What’s he going to do?” Henry asked. “Pinocchio broke his pipes.”

“He didn’t need his pipes to slay the Captain, now did he?”

“…Right.”

Emma gave August a final pat and walked up to talk to Hook. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you yet. I don’t know how Henry convinced you to help, but… thank you.”

He smiled shyly, then grimaced. “Well, to be honest with you… the Piper didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I appreciate your honesty. And hey, you’re not making us walk the plank now, so I appreciate that, too.”

Another shy smile. “You’re welcome.”

“Maybe you can answer some questions for me. Sailors hear things, right?”

“Aye, they do.”

“What can you tell me about Rumplestil-”

“Don’t say that name!” 

“Why?” Henry asked. “Is he like Voldemort?”

“Who?”

“Evil wizard who doesn’t like people using his name,” Emma said. 

“Then, aye,” Hook said, “He is like this other wizard. Or he was.”

“And what is he now?” Hook’s mouth tightened. “You can tell us without saying the name. I’ve heard rumors about the guy; I really need to know how much is true.”

“All you need to know is to steer clear of him and his mistress.”

“His mistress?” Henry asked. “Zelena?”

“No. I dare not say her name, only that it means…” he leaned forward, looking around in fear as he whispered, “Beauty.”

“Belle,” Emma said. _Goddam Isaac._

“Don’t!”

Emma put up her hands. “Sorry, I won’t say it again. What can you tell me about them?”

“Everyone knows the story,” Hook said, a little resentfully.

“We don’t,” Henry said. “We’re… not from here.”

“Clearly. Alright, fine, if only so you will stop asking me.” He leaned over the wheel again and began to whisper. “Years ago, he used to be a man, a sorcerer. Everyone feared him, but if you were desperate enough, he would trade magic to those that needed it… for a price.”

_Sounds about right._ “Go on.”

“One day, he made a deal with a princess. She agreed to become his servant in exchange for saving her village from the Ogres. Over time, he fell in love with her charms.”

“And she fell in love with him. But instead of her making him good, he made her evil,” Henry said glumly.

“No,” Hood said, “She was already evil. She lied to him. She pretended to love him to learn his weaknesses, and once she knew them all, she enslaved him. They say she controls him so completely that he had a son he loved but killed on her word. He’s not a man anymore, only a beast, but all his magic remains, and it obeys her every whim. Now she makes the deals, and they say they only thing she is interested in in knowledge, because knowledge is power. Do not, under any circumstances, call on her. If she does not like the terms of the deal you offer, she will simply take what she wants. She’s worse than the Queen. With the Queen, you might have a chance to save yourself. But not with her. Never with her.”

“Well,” Emma said. “We won’t call on her then.” _Damn you. Damn you, Isaac._

“See that you don’t.”

True to his word, Hook got them back to the port well before sunset. They even had time to grab a meal (Hook apologized profusely that the galley was empty; apparently the Jolly Roger had been in port to resupply and the delivery had not yet been made - he had, however, been able to provide Emma with more practical clothes). 

Emma had mixed feelings on this Hook. On one hand, like everyone here, he’d been stripped of all his best qualities, most notably his courage and skills. On the other, he’d been stripped of all his worst qualities too, ranging from his temper, to his dependence on rum ( _really, Isaac, an allergy?_ ), to his attitude towards women. She didn’t even recognize how much she had lowered her guard around him until he leaned close, and she realized they had been flirting since before they got off the dock.

And then she hated herself for feeling this way about someone who had had their personality stripped away. _Or has he?_ Clearly her parents and Belle had been changed completely, but others, like Regina and August, seemed just like their real selves might have been if their stories had been different. Was the real Hook hiding this sweet, shy version of himself under the rage and machismo? Emma knew what Gold had been like before he became the Dark One. Who had Killian Jones been before piracy?

_Doesn’t matter. We just have to stop the wedding._

She stepped away. “Sorry, what was that?”

“In this other reality, did we… know each other?” he repeated.

“Yeah, we did.”

“Are we… close?”

“Not really. It’s… complicated. You’re a pirate captain, and I’m the Sheriff. I’ve had to arrest you before.”

“Arrest… you had me hung?”

“What? No! We don’t do that in Storybrooke. You were in my jail for a little while. Not long,” she said hastily, “The last time was fourteen days for breaking into the library.”

“The library? And only fourteen days?”

“You didn’t manage to steal any of the books. You were drinking with this guy who thought it was a good idea to… we’re not actually sure what he wanted. He was drunk too.”

He laughed, self-depreciating. “Apparently rum doesn’t do my other self much good either.”

Emma smiled. “He could do with a little less of it. He’s a … good guy to have on your side in a fight, though.”

Hook touched the sword at his waist. Emma had nearly had to bully him into taking it when they left the ship. She wondered what kind of pirates Isaac had been intending to write where the deckhands had never touched swords before. From interviewing them, she knew that never would have flown with Hook’s crew. “You said that,” he said.

“It’s true,” Henry said. “I told you that you were the best pirate I know.”

“I thought this Captain Sparrow was?”

“Er… I don’t know him, not personally. And actually… he’s not real. Not the version I was talking about, anyway.”

“You lied to Pan?”

“I bluffed,” Henry said, proud of himself. “Sometimes, the best way to be a hero is to not fight; sometimes, you have to use words instead. August - Pinocchio - taught me that.”

August perked up. “A donkey?” Hook asked.

“He’s not a donkey in our world-”

“There they are!” _Shit!_ Lily had run up behind them, David and Mary Margaret just behind her. “As I told you, my Queen. The prisoner, the boy, the pirate, and the donkey.”

“Come here, boy!” this world’s Leory said, charging for Henry. His breastplate made a loud clanging sound when August turned and kicked him in the chest. 

“Argh!”

Mary Margaret - Snow White - chuckled. “You did say the donkey had spirit. Very good, Lily.” She waved dismissively, and Lily stepped aside. She approached Emma. “And, here we have the prisoner. What was your name again? That’s right: Emma. The mad hag I locked in the tower. I almost didn’t recognize you without the chains. Now what is so important about you, I wonder, that Peter Pan and the very boy I was hunting would join forces to free you?”

“She’s the Savior!” Henry said.

Snow smirked cruelly. “The Savor. Right. That is what you were calling yourself. Tell me, Emma, just who are you the Savior of?”

“Everyone,” Henry said. “Even you. All of you! You’ve been cursed! Trapped in Isaac’s Book by him and Zelena and Pan! That’s why they’re the only ones that get to be happy. None of this is real, and if you’ll let me, we can fix it!”

Snow titled her head, lip curling in amusement. “I see the connection now. You’re both mad.”

“We’re not,” Emma said. “He’s telling the truth. I know who you really are. Especially the two of you.”

“And who are we?” she teased.

“You’re my parents. I’m the product of your True Love. You taught me how to be a hero. You taught me how to believe in hope. And I do. And now I need you to believe in it too.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes crinkled, and she sniffed. “You’re right.” Emma dared to smile. “Hope is a very powerful thing. Which is why I’m going to have to snuff it out of you. All of you. Kill them all but the boy,” she ordered Lily.

“Wait!” Killian said.

“Yes?” Snow asked, amused.

“I’ve lived my whole life a pirate and coward. Let me die fighting, in an honorable duel.” She stared at him and he gulped. “Your… your Majesty.”

He glanced at Emma and mouthed the word, “Run.”

“You can’t beat them,” she whispered back.

“If you and the boy change things back to how they were meant to be, it won’t matter, will it? And if you can’t… she’ll kill us regardless.”

So the real Hook was in there. _Why him and not my parents?_ It didn’t matter now. Emma nodded slowly, preparing to run. David drew his sword. Hook had already drawn his, but anyone could see he had no idea what he was doing. Emma tried to ignore the very real possibility that she was about to let Hook die to save herself and Henry. Snow seemed to have the same idea. “So much for being the Savior,” she said. “By all means,” she told David, “This could be amusing.”

She had underestimated Hook. His first move what not to charge David, but to kick out the supporting beam from an overloaded balcony. It collapsed on Lily and the other guards. Emma turned to run. Henry ran with her. 

August did not. “August, come on!”

Hook’s ploy had bought time, but not for himself. He blocked David’s swing only once. On the second pass, David ran him through. He gasped, the blade of David’s sword protruding from his back. _It’s not real. We can fix this._ David smirked. 

But he hadn’t see August. 

Her friend charged David, knocking him to the ground and trampling him underfoot. With a sickening _crunch_ , David’s skull gave way under August’s hooves. “DAVID!”

THUNK.

August brayed, ear-splittingly loud, as a golden arrow embedded in his back. He fell. Emma felt a tug on her hand, and Henry hissed, “Come on! We need to go!”

She couldn’t stop herself from lingering. A second arrow came out of nowhere - THUNK - hitting him right above the eye. He collapsed, dead. _AUGUST!_

“Come on!”

Emma ran.


	40. Overwrite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting!

_It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real…_

Henry knew those golden arrows. Between that and Show White’s magic, he didn’t know how they managed to escape, but they did. “It’s not real,” he told Emma, panting. “We can still save them.”

“How?”

“We need to find Mom.”

He led her back to Regina’s hideout. He expected Snow White to show up any second, but she didn’t. “Mom!” She was packing. “I knew you’d still be here,” he said.

“You again? Listen, I don’t have time for stories. I need to hit the road before the Evil Queen had my head.”

“Wait. I brought someone else this time.”

“Another donkey? You can start a herd.”

“No,” Henry said, swallowing hard. “And Pinocchio’s not here either. The Queen’s archer shot him. He sacrificed himself to give us time to find you.”

She stopped packing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Emma said. “Help us.”

“So you’re his other mother?” Emma nodded. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I can’t even help myself.”

“Yes, you can.”

Mom shoved a bundle of cloth into her bag. “Look, you need reign in your kid. Running around the forest spouting nonsense his going to get him killed.”

“It’s not nonsense.”

Mom sighed. “Oh, not you too. I guess the apple doesn’t fall to far from the tree.”

Emma clenched her jaw. “Henry, give us a minute?”

He wasn’t sure how many minutes they had left, but he nodded. “Sure.” He stepped outside, but then pressed himself against the entrance, straining to hear.

“Don’t waste your time,” Mom said. “I need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Away from here.”

“To where?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Trust me, Regina, I know all about running away. I spent my whole life doing it, getting absolutely nowhere. You need somewhere to run _to._ ”

“And where, exactly, do you suggest?”

“Our world. You’re _happy_ in our world. It took a long damn time, but you finally have everything you always wanted. You have love, and friends, and a family.”

“While that’s a lovely story, I really have to-”

“Regina, listen to me! I just watched my father and my best friend get killed!”

“…I’m sorry.” 

“That’s not the worst part. You want to know the worst part?”

“What?”

“Before that, my father and I were fighting. I thought… I thought I had time. To get over it. To forgive him. And now I might never get the chance. My family might be gone forever, but yours isn’t. You still have a chance, but you have to take it now. If you don’t, you won’t get another one. And neither will I.”

“And what, exactly, do you want me to do?”

“You need to tell Robin Hood how you feel.”

“Is that all? Did your son forget to mention he’s getting married today?”

“Yeah he did mention that. Did he tell you who Zelena is?”

“My sister,” Mom scoffed.

“Not just your sister. One of the most evil people I have ever known. In our world, she killed Robin’s former wife and impersonated her just to take him away from you. Not because she loves him, but because she is jealous of you. She’s doing it again. You can save him. You can save all of us.”

“That is preposterous!”

“Is it? What does your heart tell you? About him? About her?”

Mom paused. _Listen to her, please!_ “Suppose I do this. I interrupt the wedding. And he stands up in front of all those people and says he loves her… and then calls the Queen down on my head.”

“Isn’t he an outlaw too?”

“…Right. And the first part?”

“Isn’t that a risk worth taking?”

Mom didn’t answer. _Come on, come on!_ “Fine.”

Henry punched at the sky. _Yes!_ Mom stepped out of the giant log and looked at him like she knew he’d been eavesdropping. “Let’s go!” he said, “We don’t have a lot of time.” 

“Do you even know where the wedding is?”

“Uh…”

She rolled her eyes. “I do. Come on.”

XxXxXxX

They were almost there. The church was in sight, and the bells had not yet begun to ring. Regina stopped. “Come on!” Emma said.

“What do I even say to him?”

“I think, in this case, actions speak louder than words,” Emma said. They didn’t have time for anything else.

“Once you and Robin share True Love’s Kiss, everything should be great again,” Henry said.

“OK.”

“You’ve got this, Regina,” Emma said.

Regina nodded, and smiled shyly. She jogged up to the church, looking curiously at a woman who stepped out from the trees, but she didn’t stop until she’d reached the doors. She opened them a crack and peeked through.

The woman, brown-haired and wearing a black travelling outfit, turned towards them, smiling sweetly. _Belle._ Emma grabbed her sword but didn’t draw it. “Hello,” Belle said, walking casually towards them. “You must be Emma and Henry.”

“And you’re Belle,” Emma said.

She clapped her hands and grinned. “You said my name! It’s such a delight to meet someone who is not afraid to say it. These peasants, such cowards.”

“What do you want?”

Belle tapped her chin pretending to think. “Hm… a cup of tea and a book would be nice.”

“Great. Let’s go get a cup of tea.”

“Wonderful! I just need to kill the boy first.”

Emma drew her sword and pushed Henry behind her. “No.”

“I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable. I have a pre-established deal, you see.”

“With who?” Emma asked, trying to buy time. 

“What will you give me in exchange for that information?”

“What do you want?”

She smiled. “You’re more clever than most,” she said. “Thank you for that. My pet is useful but not much good for conversation.” _Pet?_ “Rumple, darling, kill the boy.”

“No!”

Gold emerged from the woods. Emma could see immediately that everything Killian had told them was true and more. He was naked except for a tattered pair of black shorts and an iron collar, his scaled skin on full display, and Emma was embarrassed to admit to herself that she didn’t know if his scrawny limbs and jutting ribs were Isaac’s invention or if Gold really had lost that much weight since November. His claws were longer here than Emma remembered, and there was nothing human left in his weird, golden eyes. He crouched down and growled like an animal. Emma’s magic was still MIA, but she could feel the dark energy pouring off of him.

“Gold, listen to me,” she said. “You don’t-”

He charged. She swung her sword, slashing him right across the chest. He snarled, rolling once to land neatly on all fours. He didn’t even seem to notice the gash, or the blood dripping down his torso. He bared his teeth and growled at her. “Henry, run!”

Belle laughed. Gold teleported behind them. He prepared to charge again. “Wait!” Henry said. “I know where you son is! He’s alive!” Gold stopped, titling his head in confusion. “He’s working for Snow White,” Henry said. “Help us, and you can be with him again!”

Belle chuckled, tapping the dagger at her waist. “Even if he did believe you, there is nothing he can do,” she said. “I control him. I gave you an order, Rumple. Kill him.” He snarled, ready to jump.

Emma scrambled to pull Henry behind her. She saw Regina. Her friend had abandoned the church to sneak up on Belle, a dagger in her hand. She lunged. Belle casually spun at the last moment, plunging Gold’s dagger into her stomach.

“NO!”

Belle giggled gleefully, Regina fell to her knees, and the church bells began to ring.

_We’re too late._

Gold stopped his charge and grabbed his head, hissing on pain. Emma glanced at Belle. Regina was on the ground but still alive, struggling with Belle over the dagger. Emma and Henry bolted towards them. The church door opened. Women screamed.

Emma tackled Belle, and Regina gasped, “Go away, and never come back.” She had the dagger.

“No!” Belle screeched.

Gold vanished. Henry knelt by Regina sobbing, “No, no, no! Why did you do that? He could have healed you.”

“Regina? Regina!”

Robin was there. _Too little. Too late._ Belle lunged for the dagger again, and Emma pulled her off. _This is insane. And there is nothing we can do._ “What’s going on?” Zelena asked. Her white skirts brushed against Regina, and she complained, “Oh, now I’ve got blood on my dress!” Emma almost laughed. _At least something is the same._

“Are you serious?” Belle hissed at Zelena. “Do you have any idea the implications of what she has _done_?”

“She sent Rumplestiltskin away,” Henry said. “To protect us.” 

The crowd murmured, and Robin looked at the dagger in awe. “This is supposed to be my day!” Zelena whined, “And she’s ruined it!” She looked at the back of her hand, grabbed it, and ran. The gawking crowd barely parted for her.

“You’re going to be alright,” Robin said to Regina. From the amount of blood, they all knew he was lying.

“No,” Regina said, “I’m not.”

Emma saw Isaac out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at the dagger. So was Belle. Something about this didn’t sit right. “Henry, try the dagger,” Emma said.

“But he’s gone!” he said tearfully.

“He’s right,” Belle said. “It’s useless now.”

Emma didn’t have her superpower here, but she did have eyes. “Then why do you still want it?”

Henry gaped. Robin didn’t hesitate; he grabbed the dagger. “Rumplestiltskin,” he said, “Save this woman.”

The people screamed as Gold appeared again. He walked like a man this time, dropping heavily onto his knees beside them and placing a scaled hand over Regina’s wound. Sickly, purple magic swirled, and Regina gasped. She sat up, fully healed. Robin beamed, handing the dagger back to her. “See? I told you so.”

Regina looked from him to the dagger and back again. “Kiss him,” Henry said. “It will fix all of this. You can save August and David and everyone else.”

She did. 

Nothing happened.

Isaac laughed. “Too late,” he said, “I told you it was over when the bells rang. Thanks for saving Regina though; it would have been hard to write my next book without the protagonist.”

“It’s all true?” Regina asked as Robin helped her up. “You’re responsible for all of this? All our suffering?”

“Well, not all of it. You didn’t get stabbed in my version. And I’m guessing something happened to the prince and the donkey?”

Emma pushed Belle to the ground, grabbed Isaac, and shook him hard. “And you’re going to fix it. Bring them back. Hook too, and everyone else you screwed over in this universe.”

“I can’t,” he said, scrabbling at her hands. “I’m not the Author anymore. I can’t change a thing.”

“Then who can? The Sorcerer? The Gods?”

“Not telling,” he taunted.

“Maybe not us,” Regina said, gesturing with the dagger, “But how about the Dark One?”

Gold growled, and Isaac swallowed hard. “Fame and fortune isn’t worth a lot when you’re dead,” Emma said. “Tell us how to fix this.”

“Only the next Author can fix it!” he blurted out. “And good luck finding him! Even the Sorcerer won’t know who it is without the…”

She shook him again. “Without the what?” 

“Without the Quill,” he said snidely.

“He has the Quill!” Henry said, grabbing Isaac’s bag.

Isaac huffed as Henry rifled through it. “It’s not going to do you much good. You’re not-“

Henry pulled out the Quill triumphantly. “Whoa.” 

“Why is it glowing?” Emma asked. Isaac just gaped. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s the next Author.”

Henry stared at the Quill. “I… I can feel it.”

Emma finally let Isaac go. “You can do it, kid; you can fix it.”

“Not without the ink, he can’t,” Isaac said, brushing himself off.

“My blood,” Emma said. “Tainted by darkness. Regina, give me the dagger. Stabbing someone should make me plenty dark.”

“Hey!” Isaac said. “That won’t even work! You’re not the Savior here. There _is_ no Savior here.”

“Yes, there is,” Henry said, smiling at Regina. “You said it yourself: Mom is the protagonist. And she changed her story; that’s how Mr. Gold explained it.” Henry crouched down and looked Gold in the eyes. “Your son is alright, I promise. You’ll be together again soon. With…” he glanced at Belle, who was watching everything with suspicious interest, “With your True Love.” He stood up and turned to Regina.

“My blood? That’s what you need?” she asked.

“Not very much of it,” he said. “I think.”

“That’s encouraging.” She glanced at Robin. “I guess I’ve followed you this far.” She pulled a bandage off her hand, and opened the cut slightly with the dagger. Henry rummaged through Isaac’s bag again and pulled out a notebook while the writer glared resentfully.

With the book and the Quill in hand, he approached Regina. He smiled awkwardly as he dipped the Quill into the blood on her palm. “Thanks to the hero Regina,” he narrated, “Isaac’s villainous work was undone.”

Emma grinned hopefully as the page began to glow, and then a great wave of light crashed over them.

She was back at the loft. “Dad,” she said, relived beyond words that he was alive. Laughing, he hugged her, and then Emma hugged Mary Margaret, because if there was ever a time for burying the hatchet, it was now.

“You did it, kid,” she said to Henry.

“What did he do?” Lily asked.

“I reversed everything. I’m the Author now.”

“…Awesome. So where’s the old one?”

“Good question,” Emma said. “Let’s go. I’ll call Regina on the way.”

XxXxXxX

The forest around them disappeared, and Regina was once again standing in front of the hospital with Rumple. “Way to go, Henry!” she said. She looked at Rumple. She doubted he was going to be very pleased with Isaac, Zelena, or his father; they should hope Emma found them first. 

But he just dropped his cane and stared at his hands, his clothing, and finally at the world around him. His gaze landed on her, and he growled. “Rumple? You OK?”

He snarled viciously and sent a raw blast of concussive magic straight at her. She had just enough time to conjure a weak barrier to protect her from the worst of it, but the force blew her off her feet and her head smacked against the concrete.

XxXxXxX

Light.

And suddenly he was somewhere else. He had changed. Everything had changed. He looked up and saw the one that had taken the dagger from his mistress. But she didn’t have it now. She spoke to him, and he defended himself. She fell, and he ran.

It was cold here. The ground was frozen. He saw buildings he did not understand and trees which he did. He fled there. He heard a strange sound, like a bird, but not. It was loud and he ran more, but it followed him. He _hated_ that sound and wished nothing more than to be free of it.

His wish was granted.

His magic moved him to another forest, and the sound was gone, along with the strange cloak he had been wearing. He saw more strange buildings, and he climbed a tree for a better vantage point. He saw people, and he hated them.

Light sparked and a large, black rope fell from a tall post. People screamed.

His wish had been granted again.

He looked at his strange hands and his strange clothes. He was _free._ He was the Master now. He howled joyfully, and the people below scattered at the sound.

He did something he had forgotten how to do. He laughed.

XxXxXxX

She was herself again.

“Oh, gods!”

“Belle!”

“Bae!”

She hugged him because Rumple was not here. “I need to find him,” she babbled, “He must be so scared.” _What have I done?_ Bae pulled out his phone. “Yes. Yes, he needs to know…” _You’re alive. It wasn’t real. I love him._

One ring, then another, and another. “He’s not picking up,” Bae said.

Belle scrambled for her own phone. “I’ll call Regina. Emma said she was with him.”

She didn’t pick up either. 

“We need to find Emma,” Bae said. “Come on.”

The street was filled with people. Nova and August had wondered out of the library, and they spotted them. “Belle! Bae! What happened?” Nova asked. “Everything changed, and then changed back. Was it the Author?”

“Yes,” Belle said. “That was Isaac’s reality. He lost his powers and Henry is the new Author. He undid everything, but we can’t get in touch with Rumple or Regina.”

“We’re meeting up with Emma,” Bae said. 

“A sound plan,” August agreed, “I’ll text Emma, let her know we’re coming.” 

They met Leroy and Sleepy on the way. Leroy and Nova kissed briefly, but they understood the urgency, and the six of them were practically running when they ran into Emma and her group. 

“August!” She nearly bowled him over with a fierce hug, and Henry grinned and patted him on the back. “You’re all right.”

“Yeah.” He glanced nervously at David. “Uh, sorry about… trampling you.”

“It’s OK,” David assured him.

“Wait, you were the donkey?” Leroy asked. 

“Yeah.” Leroy looked at Bae, who shrugged helplessly.

“Sorry for shooting you,” he said.

“That was you?” August asked. “Whatever, it’s all fixed now, right? Belle said Henry’s the new Author?”

“Yeah,” Henry said. He still had the Quill and journal in his hands. August ruffled his hair.

“Hey!” Henry objected, laughing.

“Have any of you heard from Rumple?” Belle asked anxiously. “He hasn’t answered his phone, and neither has Regina.”

Emma and her parents shared a look. “We were hoping they were with you,” she said.

“Let me try,” Maleficent said. “Step back.” They were standing near a large patch of ice, apparently mirror enough for a scrying spell. She waved her hand, and a wreath of purple flames formed around an image of Regina - collapsed on the ground in front of the hospital.

“Mom!”

“Take me there,” Emma said, grabbing Maleficent’s arm. “The rest of you head to the Sheriff’s Station.”

“No, wait!” Belle objected, but Maleficent had already obeyed Emma’s order, vanishing with her and Lily.


	41. Beastly

Maleficent immediately crouched by Regina, touching her skull lightly. “She’ll be fine,” she said, relieved, “Just a head injury.” Purple magic flowed from Maleficent’s hands into Regina, and the brunette groaned. Emma reached out to help her sit up, but she waived her off, annoyed. 

“I’m fine,” she grumbled. Emma saw Gold’s cane lying abandoned on the ground and grabbed it.

“You were attacked,” Maleficent said. “Zelena?”

“Rumple,” she said, climbing to her feet, “He’s lost his mind.”

“What do you mean?” Emma demanded.

“He was looking at me like he didn’t know who I was. Like he didn’t know who _he_ was. And he didn’t say a word. It’s like… it’s like he was still in Isaac’s Book.”

“Impossible,” Emma said, “Henry undid everything.”

“Everything _Isaac_ did. There had to be more to this. How did they even fix the Quill? It’s not the kind of thing you can Superglue back together. We thought that the Sorcerer needed Isaac for something. Maybe this was it.”

“Or maybe he just lost it,” Lily said. “Wasn’t he already kind of messed up before his True Love turned him into a rampaging hell beast?”

Emma probably should have been offended by how callously she phrased that, but she doubted Gold would be; he was a champion of cutting observations and had never begrudged anyone else for doing the same. “We should get back, regroup.”

Regina nodded. “Reasons aside, Rumple wandering around town without control could get very bloody very fast.” She brought them back, immediately summoning her crystal ball.

“Mom, are you all right?” Henry asked. “What happened?”

“I’m fine. Rumple lost control; we don’t know why.”

“Lost control how?” Bae asked.

“It was like he didn’t know me, or himself. Let’s see if the Sorcerer will even let us track him.” Belle and Bae crowded around. The spell did work, and Emma could see Gold, hair wild, no coat, crouching in a tree, grinning maniacally.

“Where is he?” Belle asked, nearly hysterical.

The view zoomed outwards, revealing one of the warehouses by the docks. “OK. Regina, Bae, you’re with me,” Emma said. She handed Belle Gold’s cane. “I don’t want to freak him out with too many people-”

“I’m going with you,” Belle insisted.

“Bad idea,” Regina said. 

“I don’t care if you think-”

“It was like he was back there,” she interrupted. “And if he think he’s still in that world, you’re the last person he should see.”

She sobbed, clutching at the cane. “Oh, gods, Rumple!”

Nova hugged her. “What should the rest of us do? Leroy asked. “What about the Author?”

“Isaac,” Henry corrected. “I’m the Author now.”

“He’s MIA, along with Zelena and Malcolm,” Emma said. “That’s your job: find them.”

“On it.”

Bae rubbed Belle’s arm. “He’s going to be OK.”

Emma sure hoped so. Bae nodded, and Regina took them to the warehouse. 

“Watch out!” Hook was there, along with a scattering of dockworkers. “Come away from that!” Emma looked to her left and saw a downed power line.

“What happened here?”

“I could ask you that,” Hook said. “What was that other world? And why did I wake up here?”

A transformer exploded, and another line fell. People ran. “This has to be Rumple,” Regina said. 

“What about the crocodile?”

“He attacked me,” Regina said. “He wasn’t all there.”

“Papa?” Bae called. “Papa, stop!”

Another transformer exploded, and the fallen lines started to writhe and spark. “Magic,” Regina said. “Definitely.”

“Gold!” Emma called. “It’s all right! We’re here to take you home!” The wind picked up. Regina pulled out her ball again. “Do you see him?”

“He’s coming this way.” She waved aggressively at the few spectators still remaining. “Get out of here!”

“If there’s anyone in these buildings, get them out!” Emma ordered. They scattered, running for the doors. Hook didn’t move. “You too. If Gold really has lost it, you’re high on the list of people he’ll go after.”

“Precisely why I should stay. Somehow, I think you’re going to need all the help you can get.” He drew his sword.

“And what help do you think you can possibly be?” Regina asked bluntly. “I thought you would have figured out by now that swords don’t exactly do much against the Dark One.”

“I can be a distraction.”

“…That might actually work.”

It got dark as thunderheads appeared out of nowhere. Lightning crackled between them. “I think he’s warning us.” Emma said.

“Or he’s showing off,” Regina said.

They spotted him making his way down the steep hill at the back of the warehouse. He slid gracefully through the snow from tree to tree, predator eyes never leaving them. The bare branches and scrub caught at his clothes, and the snow had to be ruining his shoes, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “I think you’re right,” Emma told Regina. “He’s just like he was there.”

“Papa?” Bae tried again. Even with his bow, he was hardly better armed against Gold than Hook was. 

“Get behind me, kid,” Emma said.

Gold reached the bottom of the hill, where the woods met the parking area, and he crouched down on all fours. “What’s wrong with him?” Hook asked.

“He doesn’t realize Isaac’s world was fake,” Emma replied. 

He started at them. More specifically, he stared at Baelfire. Bae stepped forward. “Stay here.”

“Kid-”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” Hook said.

“I do. Even back there, he would never hurt me. He thought she - the other Belle - made him kill me. That’s what… started this.”

“If he does attack you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get you out in time,” Regina said, “His magic is stronger than mine.”

“I’ll take the chance.”

Gold was breathing hard now, but he didn’t move, just watched as Bae removed his bow and quiver and placed them on the ground. “See? It’s me, Papa. No one is going to hurt you.”

XxXxXxX

Bae didn’t know if Papa would believe that. The other Baelfire had “died” cursing his name for abandoning him to Neverland. He’d been bitter and so, so angry - angry enough to join the Evil Queen willingly. But his father hadn’t known that part. All he’d known was that Belle had forced him to toss his son off a cliff, and that Bae’s last words had been, “I hate you. You deserve this.”

Papa watched the weapons carefully, and the strange weather neither stopped nor worsened. Lightning crackled but didn’t touch down. Bae spread his hands and started walking forward. “It’s OK. I’m here. You didn’t hurt me. And you didn’t deserve any of this.” Not Isaac’s story. Not Zelena. Not any of it.

He reached the end of the parking lot, stopping when his father bared his teeth in… fear? Anger? He was truly like an animal. _What the hell did Isaac do?_ Bae crouched down so he wasn’t looming. “See?” he said. “It’s me. I’m safe. We’re all safe now.” His eyes had started to run.

Papa reached out, barely touching his face, staring like he simply didn’t understand. He didn’t say a word. Bae sniffed, and Papa pulled his hand away, the tips of his fingers wet with tears. His eyes flickered from his fingertips to Bae and back again. Suddenly, he snarled and swiped his hand in front of him, knocking Bae back with a burst of magic. Bae rolled twice, and when he looked up, Papa was gone. 

XxXxXxX

Click.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, darling.” 

Isaac’s day had gone from bad to worse. Bad was losing his Book and the fame and fortune it had earned him. Worse was appearing back in the very same spot with the very same people - who were not happy with the outcome.

“What happened?” Zelena had shrieked. “You promised me a happy ending!”

“Sorry I couldn’t plan for the Truest Believer!” he’d tried to explain, “He’s not from a storytelling realm, so my powers didn’t work on him!”

They hadn’t accepted that. They’d cornered him, and Malcolm had forced him into a chair while Zelena had squawked insults at him, and Lily had silently watched. Apparently, the noise had attracted attention. 

“Who are you?” Zelena demanded.

“My name is Cruella De Vil,” she said from the doorway. “And it seems we share a mutual annoyance at our literary friend, here.”

“He ruined everything!” Zelena spat.

“No, I didn’t; that’s what I’m trying to tell you! _Henry_ did. He’s the new Author, and he overrode my story! You need to take this up with him!”

“All your stories?” Cruella asked hopefully, her little, silver pistol swinging towards him.

“Just this last one. Sorry, you still can’t kill me. Or anyone.” He smiled sardonically.

“But I can,” Zelena said. 

“Would you like to do the honors?” Cruella offered her the pistol.

“With pleasure.” Zelena took it.

“And then what?” Malcolm asked. “Rumple and your sister will be out for blood. We need to arrange passage out of town before they find us.”

“I have a car big enough for four,” Cruella said. “Kill him for me, and I’ll take you with me.”

“And then?” he asked flirtatiously.

She responded in kind. “Then… we renegotiate.” _Ah, sociopathic love._

Zelena looked at the gun like she wasn’t sure how it worked. Isaac doubted that would help him at point blank range, but... Malcolm’s hand on his shoulder had loosened as he made goo-goo eyes at Cruella. Cruella, herself, could not kill him, and Zelena had no magic. The only person who could stop him if he ran was… “Hey, guys?” he asked.

“What?” Zelena snapped.

“Where’s Lily?” 

The all looked for their missing partner, and he bolted, kicking the chair into Malcolm’s legs to trip him up. Cruella dove after him, but in her heels, she didn’t have a prayer of catching him. Zelena fired - BANG! BANG! - and Isaac ducked, but he was right about her aim: it sucked.

BANG! He made it out the front door. BANG! BANG!

He didn’t see Lily. He did see townsfolk wandering about looking confused. He followed them, searching for the thickest crowd to hide in. “Hey!” someone shouted, “It’s the Author! Get him!”

It was one of the dwarves. Isaac dodged him and his brother, only to run abruptly into a giant of a man who simply grabbed his collar and said, “Stop.”

“Uh…”

“You got him, Dove! Let’s take him to the Sheriff. Unless you think Gold would rather have him.”

Isaac gulped. “Take me to the Sheriff!”

“What do you think, Dove?” the dwarf asked with a smirk. “Are you sure you shouldn’t call your boss?”

“I have information!”

“On what?”

“On Malcolm, Lily, and Zelena! Lily helped us escape! She and the others demanded I write them happy endings. And now Malcolm and Zelena are planning to leave town with Cruella; if you hurry, you can catch them!”

The dwarves exchanged looks. “What do you think?” the one in glasses asked.

The oddly happy one answered, “I think we should-”

FWOOM!

A large oak tree outside the Sorcerer’s mansion burst into flames, followed by another, and another. In a neat row, the trees along the street ignited. People in the crowd screamed. _Lily?_

It wasn’t Lily. Rumplestiltskin jumped into the street from the roof of Storybrooke Telecommunications, landing neatly on the balls of his feet, grinning like a lunatic.

_Oh, hell._

XxXxXxX

Regina, Emma, and Bae appeared. Rumple was not with them “Did you find him?” Belle asked desperately.

“Yeah,” Bae said. “It’s just like Regina said. He knew me, but I don’t think he believed I really am his son.” _Oh, gods!_

“You don’t think? What did he say?”

“Nothing. He didn’t say anything. I’m not sure he remembers how.” She sobbed. 

“Where is he now?” David asked.

“He disappeared,” Regina said, pulling out her crystal ball. Belle had the hysterical thought that Bae had made a good deal the day he’d traded that to her. Belle looked into it, and she saw Rumple, crouched in the street and laughing like a madman. The image expanded... “He’s at the phone company. And he’s setting things on fire,” she said grimly. “Do either of you know where the dagger is?” she asked.

“No!” Belle protested. “You can’t do that to him. Isaac did something to his mind; it’s not his fault!”

“I didn’t say it was, but someone has to stop him before he kills someone, and the dagger is the only way to do it without anyone else getting hurt.”

“No!”

“Belle,” Bae said, “We have to.”

“No, no, no… Bae, you don’t understand-”

“I do. Belle, I’ve seen what the dagger can do. But he’s not himself. If we don’t stop him, he will hurt someone. Maybe you or me, and you know he could never live with that.” She had no rebuttal.

“That’s his worst nightmare, someone forcing him to do that.” Regina said. She was right. _And he believes I did it._ “Only this time, it’s not the dagger making him loose control.” 

“Then what is?” Leroy asked.

“We don’t know,” Emma said. “We’ll find out, but for right now, we have to stop him, for his own safety.”

“I can try to talk to him again-” Bae began.

“Kid-” Emma interrupted.

Bae ignored her. “But Belle, you have to get the dagger.”

“I’ll talk to him-” she offered. She couldn’t do this to him, not again. Not for real.

“If he’s living the reality we think he is, he will kill you on sight,” Regina said. “And I can’t pull you out of there, not if he won’t allow it. Neither can Emma. His power is on another level; you know that.”

“Bae, can you get the dagger?” Emma asked. “Regina and I can at least buy you some time.”

“I don’t know where it is.”

“I do,” Belle said, feeling like a coward. “I’ll show you.”

“We’ll keep him busy,” Emma said. 

Belle and Bae ran for the shop. They could see the smoke from the fires, and she heard Nova, then Leroy, then David and Hook volunteer to help distract Rumple. She looked back, and all five of them had gone.

Not quickly enough. Trees along Main Street begin to ignite, and a transformer exploded. “Look out!” Bae shouted, grabbing her and pulling her away from a falling power line. She heard manic giggling, and she followed Bae’s stare to the roof of the Five and Dime. _Rumple._ “Go,” he said, drawing his bow. “Get the dagger; I’ll keep him distracted.”

“Bae-”

“If he sees you, he’ll kill you. I don’t think he wants to hurt me, even if he doesn’t believe I am myself. I can distract him. Get the dagger. Go!”

She knew he was right, but everything about it felt wrong. She ran in her heels, cursing herself for not taking the time to put on her winter boots when she left the shop. She heard Bae trying to talk to Rumple, jumping when another transformer exploded. She reached the door and looked back. Bae had nocked an arrow but wasn’t aiming it yet. He was pleading with Rumple, who had climbed onto the ledge and sat crouched there in a pose she knew all too well.

_Damn you, Isaac! DAMN YOU!_ She yanked the door open and sprinted for the back. Rumple kept the dagger concealed in the same hidden place as Pandora’s Box. Only he, she, and Bae could open it. She pried the floorboard off and pulled out the lockbox that held the dagger. She ran back to the door, frantically hoping that she would not see Baelfire’s dead body when she opened it.

Emma and her party were there. Rumple was snarling at them, reduced to the broken creature her other self had made him. He could not even believe what was before his own eyes because of her. She pricked her finger on the lock of the box, letting her blood open it. On navy velvet, the dagger glittered, mocking her.

She knew what it was like to hold it now. To use it. To revel in the power it gave her. Tears filled her eyes. She looked up, fruitlessly wishing that someone would say just the right thing to reach Rumple so she would not have to do this. 

“We’re not going to hurt you!” Emma told him.

“We want to help!” Nova agreed. 

He sneered at her. And then he jumped from the ledge. Belle gasped, but she should have known he would land with supernatural grace in the middle of the street. He bared his teeth, and even she could feel the build up of magic in the air. Bae looked back and saw her. “Now!” he said soundlessly. She hesitated a moment more, and the ground began to shake. She grabbed the dagger, dropping the lockbox with a clatter.

“Stop,” she said. 

No mortal could have heard her over the rumbling of the earth and the scattered screams of the townsfolk. But Rumple heard. The shaking stopped. She peeked at him, and through her tears she saw nothing in his face but agony and hatred. He _howled_ , inhuman and heartbroken all at once, and she could not bear to see him in such pain. Helplessly, she looked at the dagger. 

She could not put it down. She could not command him to know that the other world had been false and that his son was alive and she loved them both. She didn’t know what to do.

_Help. Please, somebody help him._

Bae glanced at her again then approached Rumple, shouldering his weapons and keeping his hands spread to show him they were empty. Rumple lunged and snapped at him like a cornered animal, but the tether of the dagger stopped him before he could make contact.

Belle walked numbly forward, the dagger heavy in her hands. Regina and even Hook gave her pitying looks. She didn’t want their pity, for herself or for Rumple. She only wanted him to be himself again, or at least to bring him some peace.

She only knew one way to do that. She could give him a command that her evil self had never given - but the real Zelena had. A command that now led him to lie awake night after night because he could not bear to lose control again. But the terror on his face as he fought against the dagger was unbearable. Terror that was well earned.

“Rumplestilt…” Her voice broke. “Rumple… Rumplestiltskin. I command you… to sleep.”

Searing brown eyes bored into her, fighting against lowering lids. He collapsed into the street, a broken marionette. She dropped to her knees, sobbing. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Bae knelt down, sitting heedlessly on the frozen asphalt. He pulled Rumple’s head into his lap. Rumple twitched, but did not wake, teeth bared in a pained grimace. “…And have sweet dreams,” she choked out. She didn’t dare approach him. She didn’t deserve to.

Rumple relaxed.

Her world had shattered, and she shattered with it.


	42. Accountable

“We should get him inside,” David said to Baelfire. Bae nodded, and David grabbed Gold’s legs while Bae took his shoulders. 

David noticed it was noticeably easier to lift him than the last time he’d had to do it, and his conscience pricked that he and Mary Margaret hadn’t made more of an effort to reach out after Zelena. They and Emma had shared the opinion that Gold had just wanted to be left alone, but maybe they should have tried anyway.

Nova comforted Belle, who was crouched on the ground, sobbing and clutching the dagger. Emma and Regina began to put out fires, and Leroy jumped in to help them with Gold. “I’ve got him,” Bae told him. “Get the door, please.”

“Do you still have the cot back there?” David asked just for something to say. Bae nodded.

Belle didn’t follow them.

They got him on the cot. Bae grabbed his hand. “He’s cold.”

David didn’t know what that meant for the Dark One, but he had seen Gold in pain, so he assumed it wasn’t terribly different than for a mortal. He started unlacing Gold’s shoes. Bae looked at him numbly then started pulling off his father’s jacket. His tie was missing, along with his overcoat, and David wondered what the hell had happened and why he was the only one who had reacted this way.

_Was he the only one? What, exactly, did Isaac and Henry do?_

David lifted Gold’s legs again slightly so Bae could pull the blankets out from under him and cover him. “Get Belle, please,” he asked.

“You sure?” Leroy asked. “She, ah, seems like she’s having some trouble with this.”

“Tell her she can bring me the dagger.” He didn’t look up. Instead, he fussed with the blankets and rubbed his father’s arms under them to generate some heat.

“OK.”

“You should check in with Emma,” Bae told David.

“Alright,” he said. Mary Margaret would have said something comforting, assuring him that they would figure this out and Gold would be OK, but David didn’t know if that was true anymore. These gods played by different rules.

Belle had calmed down by the time he got back outside. Leroy was relaying what Bae had said with a gruff kindness that most people didn’t get to see very often. Emma was staring down the street, extinguishing the fires. “Where’s Regina?” David asked her.

“She poofed down to the other end to get the fires there. How’s Gold?”

“I don’t know. What happened when Isaac’s world was undone? How did Henry do it?” 

“He-”

“Sheriff!” Doc and Happy spotted them and waved. Dove stood between them - with a prisoner.

“Isaac! David, can you-?”

David nodded and ran towards them, joined by Hook. But they weren’t the ones the Author needed to answer to. “You! You horrible, evil man!” Belle shouted, “How could you do that?! What did you do to Rumple?!”

“Don’t look at me!” Isaac protested. “Everything should have gone back to the way it was! If you have a bone to pick with someone, talk to Henry! I knew a kid couldn’t handle being the Author-”

Hook grabbed him by the collar and raised his hook threateningly. “Explain,” he said.

“It’s kind of hard to talk like this-” he gasped.

“You’re managing just fine.”

“Let him talk,” Belle said, grabbing Hook’s arm. “He needs to tell us how to fix this.”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!” Isaac shouted as Hook released him with a shove. Dove blocked his exit, and he had nowhere to run.

“Yes you did! You wrote this story! You wrote him like this!” Belle accused. 

“But my story is over! Henry undid all of it!”

“Then why doesn’t he remember?!”

“I don’t know,” Isaac said, aggressively dusting himself off and straightening his collar.

“Why would you even write that in the first place?!”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes!”

“I can’t stand you and the rest of the ‘heroes’,” he spat. “You all remind me of a boss I once had.”

“A bad boss started all this?” David asked incredulously. 

“A _lifetime_ of bad bosses. Of people like you who fancy yourselves heroes, pushing around people like me. It was _my_ turn to win, to be the hero.”

They all gaped. “Buddy,” Leroy said, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me-”

“You’re a bloody lunatic,” Hook scoffed. “Did you have a master like Pan?”

“Or Blue?” Leroy added.

“Rumple never claimed to be a hero,” Belle said tearfully. “He was like Regina, someone who was mistreated until he didn’t know what was right anymore. How could you do this to him?”

“Because he’s a hypocrite,” Emma said, joining them. She was panting from the effort of using her magic. “It’s like August said, isn’t it? You wanted to bang Regina, and Gold hurt her, so he’s the enemy. This has fuck all to do with any of us; we’re just characters to you.”

Isaac shrugged. “Really, it was more about her,” he said, gesturing to Belle. “You try _so hard_ to be a hero; it’s sickening.”

Leroy slugged him. He shouted, falling silent when Dove held him in place as Hook shoved the tip of his hook against his neck. “And I?” he asked dangerously. “I never claimed to be a hero, mate.”

“You were going to become a hero in the sequel - defeat Blackbeard and take his ship! I was going to give you a happy ending, I swear!”

“That’s not your call to make!”

“Just tell me how to fix this,” Belle pleaded.

“I told you: I. Don’t. Know. I don’t know what happened. She can tell you I’m telling the truth,” he said, gesturing towards Emma.

Belle looked at her hopefully. “He is,” Emma said. “But what about the gods? Or the Sorcerer? They set you up to do this.”

Isaac shrugged. “That’s as good a guess as any. And… here’s someone who can tell you.” David looked. An old man with a full beard had stepped into the street - a man David knew.

“You’re the Apprentice,” Emma said. 

“I am,” he said. “And the answer to your question is: the curse of the Dark One is responsible for what has happened to Rumplestiltskin. It was given free reign over him in Isaac’s reality, and it took advantage of his weakened state to do the same here.”

“No,” Belle said. “No, I don’t believe you. You and your Master conspired to bring Isaac here with all the tools he needed. You planned this! Was Rumple that much of a threat to you?!”

“You are mistaken. Rumplestiltskin was never a threat. The curse of the Dark One, however, is. If we do not free him from it now, it will consume him and unleash unthinkable evil onto the realms.”

“And why are you just showing up now?!” Emma asked. “ _After_ Isaac did his thing? Was this the plan? You get a new Author and you get rid of the curse of the Dark One all at once?”

“I do not see what my Master sees, but if that is the outcome, if Rumplestiltskin is finally freed, is that not for the best?”

“He was already freed!” Belle shouted. “His curse was broken! And someone gave Zelena the information she needed to resurrect it!”

“It was not me, nor my Master.”

“Then who was it?” Leroy asked. “And why didn’t you stop them if you’re so damn powerful?”

“I don’t know. There are forces more powerful than my Master, some very evil.”

“Hades?” David asked.

The Apprentice nodded. “He is but one.”

“Is he telling the truth?” Leroy asked Emma.

“Yeah,” she said reluctantly. “Or at least, I think so. My superpower hasn’t been a hundred percent since I went back in time with Hook. Who was messing with us then? _Someone_ was making sure we didn’t call Gold, and then Zelena comes back with us and my power fails? This was a set-up. All of it. Which god are you working for?” she demanded of the Apprentice.

“I serve my Master, who serves the gods and the Fates.”

“Hades is a god. Do you serve him?”

“No. He is the enemy of the gods and was banished for his crimes.”

“But how do you know?” David asked. “How do you know he has not been deceiving you this whole time?”

“I have faith.”

Emma scoffed and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t believe this. After all this, he’s just another zealot, like Mother Superior.”

Regina returned. “The fires are out, and- Who are you?”

“I am the Apprentice. It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Regina. I have admired you efforts to better yourself.”

“Oh, have you?”

“Yes.” 

“Then where the _hell_ have you been? What have you and you Master been doing this whole time?”

“Setting us up,” Leroy said grimly. “They wanted Henry as the Author and to get rid of Gold’s curse. And to hell with the rest of us, right?”

“You wanted Henry,” Regina repeated, her voice deadly and low.

“The Quill chooses who it will; we have no control over that.”

“That’s not what Booth said,” Leroy said.

“He was mistaken. Our responsibility is to bring the Quill to this world so it may select the Author; we do not select him ourselves.”

“You said there’s a way to save Rumple,” Belle said, “What is it?”

“There is only chance: the Sorcerer’s Hat. It can pull the curse directly from his heart and contain it. His heart would be cleansed.”

“So now we know you’re full of shit,” Leroy said. “There is another way to fix this. We’ve got our own Author now; Henry can just write the curse out of him.”

“He cannot. The Quill does have limitations. The curse is an elemental force of evil; the Quill cannot destroy it.”

“He didn’t say destroy,” Emma said. “He can send it back to the vault and lock it away so no one can ever free it again.”

“The Author is not meant to interfere. I would be forced to confiscate the Quill.”

“Yeah, that was a threat,” Emma said. “You’re really not convincing me that you and your Master didn’t plan this whole thing. You’re trying to do something with the Hat.”

“No, I’m trying to protect Henry. If my Master and I do not intercede when an Author breaks the rules, the gods will. And they will not be so forgiving.”

“Still a threat,” Emma said.

“What exactly is happening to Rumple?” Regina asked.

“His curse is consuming his heart. If not stopped, it will destroy him,” the Apprentice said.

“I don’t believe you!” Belle said. “You and your Master have done nothing but manipulate things for your own ends!”

“If he’s lying, it’s easy to disprove,” Regina said. “Let me take a look at Rumple’s heart. If his curse is really consuming it, we’ll be able to see it.” 

“I am telling you the truth,” the Apprentice insisted.

“Yeah, I’d like to check for myself,” Regina replied.

“Yes,” Belle said. “Please, Regina.”

They all piled into the shop, where Bae had been waiting anxiously. They relayed the story to him - and he had some choice things to say to the Apprentice - but he agreed to let Regina look at Gold’s heart. With his permission, David left Isaac with Hook, Nova, and the dwarves and followed Bae, Belle, Emma, and Regina into the back. Gold hadn’t moved.

“Oh, Rumple,” Belle said. She reached out to stroke his hair, but pulled her hand back as if she were afraid she might hurt him. Whatever hell Isaac had put her and Gold through had left a mark.

Regina knelt next to the cot, and folded the blanket down. She looked once more to Belle and Bae for permission, and when they nodded, she reached into Gold’s chest and pulled out his heart. It was the darkest heart David had ever seen. And it was getting darker.

“Damn,” Regina said.

“It’s another trick,” Belle said.

“What if it isn’t?” Bae asked.

“Henry can fix it.”

“No,” Emma and Regina said at once.

“You can’t just let him die! Not after he’s done so much for everyone!”

“What if you took him across the town line?” David asked. “If magic is killing him, maybe the Land Without Magic is the answer.”

Belle twisted her fingers anxiously. “He said he wasn’t sure how that would affect his curse. It could save him…”

“Or it might kill him,” Bae finished.

Belle gasped. “True Love’s Kiss!”

“He wasn’t sure that would work either,” Bae said. “And even if it did, the curse could just be resurrected again. But it would buy us time, and trying can’t hurt. Belle?”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t remember me as… we are.”

“That matters,” David confirmed. “I wasn’t able to cure Snow after she forgot me. But you were his son in that world, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Bae said. He knelt down. He kissed Gold on the forehead. It didn’t work.

“Why didn’t it work?” Emma asked.

Belle sniffed. “Because he doesn’t remember how to be human,” she said. “He doesn’t think of it as a curse anymore; it’s just who he is. This is my fault.”

“No, it’s Isaac’s fault,” Emma said, charging into the other room. “You’re supposed to keep the Author’s in check, right?” she interrogated the Apprentice. David let Bae and Belle go first before running in after her.

“Yes,” the Apprentice said.

“Then let Henry fix this. It’s Isaac’s fault; he’ll be correcting what he wrote, not writing something new.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how the gods see it.”

“How do you know that?!” Belle demanded.

“He doesn’t,” Regina said, “It’s another manipulation.”

“It is not. What would be gained from this? I am only offering to save Rumplestiltskin’s life.”

“After you let this happen in the first place,” Bae said. “You’re older than my father. You could have interceded at any time! Why didn’t you?”

“I was forbidden to.”

“You were forbidden from talking to Lily, but you did it,” Emma said.

“I only told her why. And it changed nothing.”

“You got her obsessed with revenge on my parents!”

“She would have been regardless. It is futile to resist fate.”

“Bull!”

“Have you been successful so far?” he asked.

_No._ They exchanged glances, all of them thinking the same thing. “So it didn’t matter,” Bae said bleakly. “All that fighting he did. He _changed_ , but Fates decided he was supposed to be this way, so they made it happen anyway.”

“I don’t see the future,” the Apprentice said. “Only my Master does. Perhaps his fate is brighter that we can see. If I can save him, the Fates must have decided he could be saved.”

Belle put her hand on Bae’s. “What do we do?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What if someone else tries the Hat?” Emma asked. “Regina?”

“I honestly would have no idea how. I’d never heard of it until Anna brought it up.”

“Rumple has books,” Belle said. “Not many, but…”

“And I could ask Mal,” Regina said. “She might know more about it.”

“We should find Malcolm and Zelena,” David said to Emma.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to shed some light on that?” she asked Isaac.

“Sure I would!” he said eagerly. “Cruella offered to help them skip town of they killed me; that’s why I was running. If you hurry, you can catch them!”

“It’s a shame they failed,” Hook said. “Shall I take this prisoner to the brig?” he asked Emma.

“The Sheriff’s station will do,” Emma said dryly. “Regina?” She nodded, and the three of them plus Dove disappeared.

“Stay with Rumple?” Belle asked Bae.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’ll help you search through the books,” Nova said. 

“Thank you,” Belle said.

“And what about this guy?” Leroy asked, hitching his thumb at the Apprentice. “You want me to throw him out?”

Belle smiled fleetingly, but the Apprentice himself answered the question. “I will be at my Master’s house,” he said, “If you have need of me.”

“Yeah, don’t expect a call,” Emma said. He vanished. Emma looked at David.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I miscounted the chapters - there will be one more in this installment, and we will move right into the next installment. Thank you for reading!


	43. Derailed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of part 5 of this series, Endgame, will be posted next week at the usual time. Thank you, everyone, for all your support!

“Special delivery.”

Bae looked up. He’d been alone with his father for a couple of hours now, after Belle and Nova had gone to the house to search through the books there. August was standing in the doorway with a pair of coffees and a paper bag. “Belle asked me to bring you something,” he said.

“Thank you.” He took the coffee. August left the bag on the table and gabbed a stool.

“Any change?” he asked.

“No. Have Malcolm and Zelena been caught?”

“Yeah. Cruella sold them out in about two seconds,” he said with a grin. “They and Isaac are swearing up and down that Lily is the one who let them out, but that’s impossible because she was with Emma during that time.”

“The so it was the Apprentice?”

“That’s the popular theory,” August said, blowing on his own coffee.

“I gather Maleficent doesn’t know how to work the Hat?”

“No. Emma and Regina even went to Blue; she doesn’t know either. At least, she says she doesn’t, and Emma’s superpower says she’s telling the truth.”

“But it’s failed before.”

“Right. Leroy has offered to pummel the information out the Apprentice, but…”

Bae laughed silently. “It was nice of him to offer.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments before August said, “Emma offered to help take your dad across the town line of you and Belle want to do that.”

“I don’t think they’ll let us,” Bae said. “The gods. All this time… Papa always used to talk about fate like it was inevitable. I thought he was wrong. Belle thought he was wrong. But… he wasn’t. If this is what the gods want…”

Belle would have objected. Henry too, and Nova, and Emma, and her parents. August didn’t. Instead he said, “They’re dicks.”

Bae laughed outright. “Yeah. Yeah they are.”

“And Poseidon lied to us. Or got outvoted or something… we could try summoning him again.”

“If he was going to help us, he would have already.”

“Maybe… probably.” Bae sipped his coffee. August stared at him in that searching way he sometimes had. “I feel like you have a plan,” he said.

“Not a plan. He said it - Papa did - that if the gods want things happen this way, they will find a way to bring it about regardless of what we do. I don’t think we have a choice; it’s going to be the Apprentice.”

“There is Henry. He’s willing. More than. Emma and Regina had to stop him from doing it right then and there.”

Of all their options, that was the one that seemed the most promising - and yet was most likely to backfire. _What if that is the route the gods are trying to make us take?_ It was a mess. _Deliberately so,_ Bae was sure. _Either way could be a trap. But…_ “The Author’s powers can break the laws of magic. You know Papa’s stance on that. If he were awake, I think I know which one he would choose.”

August nodded. “OK.”

They sat like that for a while, some semblance of a decision made. Bae became aware that he actually was hungry, and he reached for the paper bag, finding a grilled cheese and a cup of soup inside. He was halfway into the sandwich when his phone rang.

“Belle?”

“We’ve found it. I think.”

“You found it?”

“The spell. Nova is calling Regina and Emma, and we will meet you there.”

“Alright.”

“This will work, Bae. He’s going to be alright.”

“Of course.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Good news?” August asked.

“I think so. Unless it’s another trap.”

“Well, if it is, that means we outsmarted the last one. So… that’s something.” 

“Yeah.”

XxXxXxX

“I don’t know how to do this,” Regina said.

“But that’s the spell, isn’t it?” Belle asked. 

“It’s the spell to turn on the Hat, yes, but there’s nothing here about taking just the curse and leaving his heart behind.”

“But doesn’t the Hat work by proximity?” Emma asked. “I’ve seen Gold use it. It’s like a vacuum; the closer you are, the more intense the suction.”

“And how does that help us when the curse is _in_ his heart?”

“Look here,” Belle said, pointing to part of the text, “The Hat consumes magic, but it leaves non-magical objects and beings alone.” _This has to work. Please, Regina._

“And?” 

“Rumple is not, himself, magical; all his magic is from his curse. If we slowly bring his heart closer to the vortex the Hat creates, it could pull the magic from it.”

“‘Could’ is the operative word there,” Regina said. “But it’s so deep in his heart, I doubt you can get it close enough to latch onto the curse without taking his heart with it.”

“What we need is something to get it started,” Leroy said. “Like a siphon.” They all started at him. “What?”

“That’s exactly right!” Belle said. “And we have just the thing!” She grabbed Rumple’s potion bag from the cabinet and tore it open. “Where…? Here!” She pulled out the remains of the True Love potion; it sparkled merrily. “This can’t break the curse, but it could loosen it, like the first time I tried to Kiss him.”

“That… could work,” Regina said. “Like he said: a siphon. It’s magic, so the Hat will grab onto it. If it’s fighting against the curse at the time…”

“The curse could get dragged in with it,” Emma said. “OK, we have a plan. Can we do this here, or is there too much magic around?”

Belle could not help tensing as Regina pulled out Rumple’s heart again. It was almost completely black. “I don’t think we have time to shop for a better location,” Regina said, “But move him out to the main room; I at least need room to breathe. Anyone with magic, stay here; I don’t want any accidents.” She looked deliberately at Henry.

While David and Bae moved Rumple, Belle retrieved the Hat. She had to trust Regina with the dagger so they could get it out of the box, but Regina rewarded that trust and handed it right back. “Thank you,” Belle said.

“Don’t mention it. We’re ready,” she announced.

“And if the Apprentice tries to interfere?” Hook asked. Belle hadn’t had the presence of mind to ask him to leave.

“Hold him off,” Regina said. They all knew that was impossible, but Hook only nodded and took a position outside the shop. Dove, David, Leroy, and his brothers joined him. Bae knelt with Rumple in front of the counter. Regina placed the Hat on the floor between Rumple and the door.

“Who’s going to hold the heart?” she asked.

“I will,” Belle said immediately.

“Give someone else the dagger, then; I don’t want to know what will happen if it gets caught in the Hat.” Belle nodded and held it out to Bae.

“I’ll keep it safe,” he said.

“Hopefully, in a few minutes, it shouldn’t matter,” Regina said.

Belle took Rumple’s heart and stood off to the side. Emma passed her the True Love potion, then ducked behind the counter with Nova, August, and Henry. Regina looked at Belle expectantly, and she nodded. “Do it.” 

Regina tipped the Hat on its side. The vortex formed immediately. Belle popped the cork from the True Love potion and poured it on Rumple’s heart. She heard an angry hiss that had to be the curse, and Rumple’s heart began to writhe in her hand. The potion created a pink haze around the heart, and black threads rose to do battle with it. “It’s working!” She tossed the bottle aside and, gripping his heart in both hands, approached the Hat. She could see the pink haze swirling towards it as if blown by a strong wind. _Please, please take this damned curse!_

The threads began to catch - one, two, then many, and from threads it became ropes, and Belle laughed. Henry cheered. Belle saw a flash of light from the dagger, and the last of the curse stripped away, leaving Rumple’s heart a pure, glowing white. “Whoa,” Emma said. 

Regina titled the Hat upright. “We did it.”

“Look,” Belle said, showing her the heart, “What does that mean?”

“It means it worked,” she said. “Beyond that, I have no clue. I’ve never heard of a white heart before. Maybe he can tell us.” She put it back in his chest.

“Thank you,” Bae said.

“Like I said, don’t mention it.” 

Bae showed Belle the dagger. Rumple’s name was gone, just as it had been when his curse was broken.

Belle touched his forehead; it remained slack. “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“I don’t know, but he did just had the magical equivalent of major surgery,” Regina said.

“Let me see,” Nova said, hurrying form behind the counter. Regina stepped back to let her through. Nova pulled out her wand and passed it over him, from his crown to his knees. “The curse has left him weak. I’m not sure I can heal the damage.”

“That spell,” Bae said, “The one we used when Papa lost his memory-”

“Yes! I’ll get it!” Belle said.

“And we need an object that touched him before he was the Dark One.”

“The first time or the second time?” August asked.

“Hey guys?” Regina asked from the back room. “I think we might have a problem.”

“What?” Belle asked, ducking under the curtain. Emma was right behind her.

“I returned the Hat to the box, and it doesn’t seem very happy about it.” The top of the box was no longer solid, but swirling with black ooze as the box itself shook and hopped on the tabletop.

Emma began to ask a question, “Wha-?” but the curse broke free before she could get a word out. The swirling mass of black ropes tore aside the curtain and blasted the front door open in its bid to escape. 

“What the bloody hell is that?” Hook shouted

“The curse is free and looking for a new host!” Bae said.

“How do you know?” Emma asked.

“I’ve seen it before! Right before Papa took it back. It went after Elsa first.”

“Good news: Elsa’s not here,” Leroy said.

“Then who is it after?” David asked.

“I don’t know,” Regina said. “I don’t know why it would have preferred Elsa over Rumple or even me, unless… Elsa is more powerful than I am.”

“And the most powerful magic user in town is-”

“Emma,” Henry said.

“No,” Regina corrected. “The Apprentice. This was what he wanted: the curse for himself.” Without a word, Dove, Leroy and his brothers ran off after it. Regina dug out her crystal ball. But her explanation didn’t seem right to Belle. 

“If he wanted the curse, why stage all this?” she asked. “Why not just attack Rumple with the dagger?”

“Hell if I know. He’s at the mansion,” Regina said. She lifted her hand and she, Emma, David, and Hook disappeared.

Belle knelt by Rumple. Her place was here.

XxXxXxX

“What have you done?” the Apprentice demanded.

“Exactly what you tried to force us to do,” Emma said, “But it ends here.”

Killian wasn’t sure how she intended to stop it, but he’d never shied away from trying to kill a Dark One before. He drew his sword. The Apprentice claimed innocence. “I don’t know what you mea-”

The window shattered. The curse descended on the old man, but Emma put up her hands and blasted it with a beam of pure, white magic. It wasn’t enough. The curse reared back like a wounded beast, but then rallied, flowing around her magic and latching onto the Apprentice. His eyes filled with darkness. 

“NO!” Emma tried again, hitting him with an even stronger beam of light, flooding him with her power to fight the darkness. 

Killian would be ashamed to admit this, but he expected her to fail. Emma was powerful, but the curse of the Dark One was ancient and far greater than any one person. He braced himself. 

But the Apprentice fell to the ground, and the swirling, black mass actually drained out of him. Emma hit it again, erecting a sort of shield, and it fled out through the window. David and Emma ran after it. Killian turned to join them, but the Apprentice grabbed him weakly by the ankle. Regina stopped and knelt down, and Killian joined her. He suddenly remembered that he had not yet revealed the role the Apprentice had played in causing the fist curse to be reversed, and he knew how it would sound if the Apprentice told her that now. 

He did not. “Listen to me,” he said weakly, and Killian had seen enough men die to know that the Apprentice was not long for this world, “You must help her.”

“Help her how?”

“Long before… your stories began, the Sorcerer battled the Darkness.”

“We’re aware of that, mate. Care to get to the point?”

“He was able to keep it from consuming the realms.”

“And?”

“He tethered it to a human soul-”

“Yes, the curse needs a host,” Regina said, “We know that. Get to the point!”

“-that could be controlled with a dagger.”

“Wait, the Sorcerer created the dagger?” Regina asked.

“To protect the realms. He is the only one with the power to destroy the Darkness once and for all-”

“Then why didn’t he do it the first time?!”

“He is far, far from here. His name is… Merlin. You must… stop… the darkness… find Merlin.”

“Where is he?” Regina demanded, “I know you know, you cryptic son of a bitch!” He passed out or died, Hook wasn’t sure witch. “Damn it!” She reached for his neck to check his pulse, but Hook grabbed her arm.

“We must go,” Killian said, “If it desires the most powerful magic user, it will be after Emma; she must be the ‘her’ he meant.”

“Then why didn’t it grab her just now? No… Lily. Lily as the Dark One would destroy us before she even knew what she was doing.”

He didn’t believe that but he said, “Let’s go.”

She used her magic to transport them down to the street. “Regina!” Emma called.

“It’s after Lily!”

“Are you sure?”

“She-”

“Watch out!” David shouted.

It descended on them.

XxXxXxX

Belle knelt down by Gold. “This doesn’t seem right,” she said. August agreed.

Apparently, so did Bae. “I know. If he wanted the curse for himself, all he had to do was take the dagger and slay Papa with it. But first we need to help Papa; Nova, can he hold on until we find an object?”

“I think so, but we should hurry.” Belle jumped up again to grab the healing spell from the back. 

Bae got up and began rifling through Gold’s stuff. “There it is!” He pulled an old, leather ball out of a corner.

Belle returned, the book in her hand. “Bae-”

“It’s just a ball,” he said, “It’s worth it.”

“What about the dagger?” Henry asked. “He touched it before he became the Dark One, didn’t he?”

“I have a feeling we’re going to need it,” Bae said.

“I’ve got it.” August picked it up, stepping aside so Belle could kneel by Gold. He stared at the blade, waiting to see if the Apprentice’s name would appear. It didn’t. _This isn’t right…_

Belle flipped through the book, trying to find the spell. _Bae is right, if he wanted to be the Dark One, he could have just taken it…._ “What if it’s someone else we wants to make the Dark One?” he asked. “Someone who’d never kill to get it?

“Who?” Nova asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“My Mom?” Henry asked. “He wanted to make Mr. Gold a villain again. Maybe he wants to do it to my Mom too.”

“She’s powerful,” Bae said. “The curse would want her.”

“She’s already fought the darkness and won, though. Same as Gold. If that was the kind of Dark One he wanted, why not leave the curse in him? No, it’s got to be…” _Oh, no._ “Emma.” He stared at them. “It makes perfect sense. The Savior as the Dark One - when in history has there ever been a circumstance where that could happen? That is what he was trying to engineer this whole time.” He shoved the dagger at Bae. “You take this, you force me across the town line.”

“August, wait-”

August ran.

He’d been afraid he would not arrive in time, but he found Emma and the others in the middle of the street, staring up at the sky. “Watch out!” David shouted, pointing.

The curse descended, going for Regina, but August saw Emma immediately step forward. _Of course - she’d only take it on to save someone else._ “Hook!” he bellowed, “Stop her!”

David would have hesitated. He was a hero, and it went against his instincts to stop Emma from jumping in to save someone. But Hook was in it for Emma; he didn’t care about the rest of them. He didn’t hesitate; he lunged and grabbed her around the middle, pinning her arms to her sides. She fought. “Hook! What the hell are you doing?!”

The curse swirled around Regina, and August gawked at it. It looked like black, flowing water. He didn’t have the best track record with water. Through it, Regina stared at him with wide eyes. 

He reached towards it. “August, what are you doing?!” Emma called, still struggling in Hook’s arms.

“It can’t be you!” he shouted back. “It’s what they wanted!”

“How can you know that?!”

“I don’t! But whoever they’re counting on, I’m pretty sure it’s not me!” Not allowing himself time to think, he plunged his hands into the darkness. It pulled him in… and swept him away.

XxXxXxX

“AUGUST!” Emma jammed her heel into Hook’s shin. He grunted, and his grip on her loosened. She elbowed him in the stomach. He swore, and she stumbled free, but she was too late. The curse had already surrounded her friend, and she only caught a glimpse of him before it lifted him into the air and he and the curse both vanished in a burst of blush, purplish light.

“Where did he go?” she asked no one. Bae and Henry had come running from the shop. Bae had the dagger. “What happened? Where is he?” Emma asked him, but that wasn’t what she was really asking. Bae looked at the dagger. Wordlessly, he flipped it around so she could read it. There was a new name on the blade.

_Pinocchio._

XxXxXxX

Everything went black. 

And then August could see again. 

But he didn’t see Storybrooke’s buildings or even the road out of town. Instead, he was in the middle of a forest alone. He was standing on a strange, stone platform, and his clothes had been replaced with a ragged, gray robe.

“Oh, shit!”

END PART FOUR


End file.
